The Things Not Seen
by BlueMarrow
Summary: The things we didn't get to see in the last two episodes of season six. Including "the" scene, a missed conversation, and what comes immediately after. Also, things we wont get to see in the summer. A conversation with Parker, and one with Pops as well.
1. Chapter 1

_{So, for anyone who happens to remember me, obviously my last story is yet unfinished. Every time I get my mojo for it, something happens on the show that shakes it all up. Don't worry, I still will get to it – but first I wanted to just post some short Post-Season-Six-Finale scenes. Actually, a couple of them take place during and after the penultimate episode, and then afterward. I realize there are already a lot of others out there, but I wanted to post my own version of events. How I think it all went down. I'd appreciate it if you'd read and review! You people make writing fanfics more fun.}_

_{Second note: this will not turn into a new story. I only wanted to do a few scenes. So only three or four chapters. And they're all basically done, so they will be up in speedy time.}_

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><p>It hadn't happened like it was supposed to.<p>

She wasn't even sure it was supposed to happen at all. She still wasn't one hundred percent convinced that being with him, actually physically _being_ with him was a good idea, despite what they'd agreed in his apartment after their day in the elevator.

It would complicate so many things if she slept with him. And even though she ached for more than just the touch of a friendly partner, she was glad of his reluctance. It helped her be strong, because had he been willing, she would have been weak and given in to the secret hunger in her heart.

She _was_ weak. And she _did_ give in.

But not like she thought it would happen.

That night when they burned the paper with their dates, and she thought of the possibility of them as more than just partners, or friends, she imagined it happening differently. She imagined a late night after a tough case, a quiet, but candid conversation while he took her back to her apartment. A decision that perhaps they were both ready. And then, because the moment was opportune, they would go in to her place, laughing over some nonsensical colloquialism, they'd fall into bed and…and…

She never imagined it would happen the way it did.

So much pain swallowing up her whole heart – the way it had when Zach was taken, only this was so much worse. Worse, because Zach was alive, and because Zach had chosen his fate. And because Vincent was… What was he? In a way, he was to her what Sweets was to Booth. Irritating, young, but promising, and he'd proved his intelligence again and again.

When Booth insisted she stay at his place, her first instinct was to protest. But she was so tired, so heartsick, and dreading returning home alone so much that she agreed without argument. She just didn't want to be alone. The thought never even crossed her mind that, given the recent shift in their relationship, sleeping in the same environment might be too diffcult. She was hurting too much to think of their confusing relationship just then.

So she went in to his apartment. And she took his sweatshirt. And she insisted on taking the couch. And she wanted to tell him so many things, ask him so many questions, but mostly ask him to just sit with her for a while. Maybe until she fell asleep. Because the lump in her throat was growing and the pain in her chest felt like a wound – like Vincent's wound. But of course, she didn't say anything except 'goodnight,' and watched as he retreated to his room. She had to turn away as he was closing the door, she had to focus on a task, had to remember the motions of getting ready for bed.

The couch was comfortable, his sweatshirt smelled like him, and the blanket over her kept her warm enough in the cool room. All the right ingredients were there for a restful night of sleep, but it stayed just out of reach.

She lay there, awake, her ears full of the struggled gasps of Vincent's last breaths – his childlike pleading to be allowed to stay. It was soft when it happened, but the memory was loud in her mind, and filled her with grief and torment and confusion, and pain. She closed her eyes, but she saw Booth grabbing her favorite squintern and pinning him to the ground after the shatter of glass, saw Vincent's blood pooling around them even as Booth said they were okay.

To her logical mind, all of this felt like a crazy over-reaction to a sad, but fleeting event. She'd lost people before, she'd seen death, but this time felt different. Maybe because her emotions were closer to the surface now than she'd ever allowed them to be in the past, in her transformation from imperviousness to strength. Strength meant she could be damaged. And this was certainly damage.

Or maybe it was because he was her student, and she his teacher, and she was supposed to take care of him, in a sense. She hadn't lied when she said he was her favorite. He was brilliant! Irritating, certainly, in his apparent lack of concern for relevance, in his compulsive fact-spouting, but absolutely brilliant. She loved him, as a student and intern, and of all those she fellowshipped she had seen in him the most potential. And now all that life, that potential, was lost. Gone.

Gone where?

The question tore at her fresh wound with nails of glass. Was he simply gone forever? Everything inside her told her yes, rationally, she knew the answer was yes, but she didn't want to believe it.

The night was a dreadful time for her. She'd been alright during the day. Sad, heartbroken, grieved, yes, but able to compartmentalize and save face. While she withered within, outwardly she seemed to be coping well. In the group of everyone else, seeing their devastation, she managed to stay strong.

But in the night, alone in Booth's living room, her outer shell crumbled entirely and she was left raw and exposed. All the demons of the day rose up in her mind and kept sleep far off on a distant shore.

A restlessness grew within her, a wild desperation to answer Vincent's echoing pleas, a way to get them to stop. She had a reckless desire to leap over to the windows, throw open the blinds and shout into the night for Broadsky to come find her. _Her_, not Vincent. He was so young and full of life, he was loved by a family and would be missed so much. Would she even be missed? Perhaps, for a time, by her team, but eventually they would all move on. Not like Vincent. He was loveable, and his absence in the lives of those who had loved him would be huge.

But of course she didn't do it. Because really, she didn't want to die. Not yet. There was so much she hadn't experienced yet, so much she was afraid to experience. She might still be able to salvage her life, if she were more willing to take risks. She didn't want to die anymore than she had wanted him to die.

Her thoughts swirled, confusing and upsetting. She couldn't lie there any longer. The darkness, the silence, the solitude, they were unbearable. And so she got up. She forsook the couch and quietly approached Booth's door. An apprehension shook in her veins as she grasped at the handle. What if he were deep asleep? What if he could not hold conversation?

She hesitated. Perhaps it was better not to trouble him. But her heart ached again and she wanted only to be near him. Even if he slept, she would sit beside his bed and listen to him breathe. Knowing he was alive was comfort enough.

So she opened the door, and in a spastic flash of instinct and a strongly ingrained sense of self-preservation, he had a gun pointed at her.

With a gasp, she lifted her hands and her heart skipped a couple beats in her chest. It took him a moment to recognize her, or comprehend her presence in the dead of the night, but when he did he quickly apologized.

He did not lower the gun soon enough. While it was still pointed, her heart raced, and she could hear the shattering of glass and Vincent's gasp, over and over. An illogical, irrational sense of fear and guilt washed over her.

So she confessed, told Booth of the words haunting her over and over. She didn't understand them, and they were frightening, and she thought they were meant for her.

Tenderly, he took her hand and she sat beside him on the bed, glad he was awake, glad he was willing to talk. He explained carefully, gently. His answer was absurd and insulted her rational senses, but a greater sadness and confusion and sense of loss overcame her that drowned out the rational. She felt Vincent's plea again, but differently. It resounded deep inside her like the toll of a bell. He didn't want to die. He loved living.

She didn't want to die either. She loved being here too, even though she hadn't done much to show for her time here. Why didn't God, or the Universe, listen to his pleadings and let him stay? Why was he allowed to die? She wanted to understand, wanted Booth to explain it too her, but it was too much.

She was overwhelmed and her eyes swam with tears. She felt crushed beneath the weight of his heavy sorrow. She didn't have to finish her quiet, meek question before he agreed. He was perceptive, like always, and she'd felt his penetrating stare on her for long enough. He knew what she needed.

So he gathered her into his arms and let her sob into his chest, like child.

She wept hard, for Vincent and his death, and for the profound sense of insignificance that had come over her in the wake thereof. Nothing she had done with her life was permanent – it could be cut short in an instant – and her time was running out. She'd wasted so many precious moments.

Booth murmured softly to her as she trembled in his arms. He held her close and tight, whispering empathetic words. And by and by, she began to feel comforted. His embrace was soothing. In it there was some satisfaction, as if satiating a deep, ancient hunger. When she was a foster child, lost and neglected, abused and unloved, she would have done anything for a hug like this, for someone to cry on.

She'd grown hard and impervious over the years and fooled herself into believing, for a time, that she didn't need anyone to be a comforter to her.

But this awoke in her a yearning to be nearer, to melt deep into his arms and never leave them again. It was safe here. She could not be hurt here.

Her tears began to subside, she felt them wet against his shirt, pressed into her face. Her heart still ached, a real, physical ache, but she did not cry any more.

He leaned down and kissed her on her forehead, cradling her as he rolled to the side, letting her sink into the soft mattress, still tucked tight against him. The movement drew her face up and she looked at him, into his eyes. He wiped a lingering tear from her cheek, giving her a look of such tenderness that it made her shudder and press herself tighter against him, a trembling hand lifting to his cheek; wishing she could convey the same emotion, not knowing how.

And he must have seen something in her expression that gave him courage, that told him it was alright, because he then closed the narrow space between their faces, and drew the air from her lungs in a gentle, exquisite kiss.

And that one kiss – that _real_ kiss – was all it took. She responded to it like a match to a spark. Her entire body responded. She kissed him back, harder, with the intensity of all the feelings she'd been keeping bottled up since their first encounter.

They ignited. It was the only word to describe what happened then. Fumbling fingers desperately sought each other, breath came raggedly, and they crushed together so effectively that they _almost_ occupied the same space. Each touch was more exquisite than the one before it. The heat between them was molten, melding their two bodies and souls together. And they knew, each of them knew in the midst of their clamoring, that there would be no going back after this. The floodgates were opening, and there was no way to stop the tidal wave behind it.

It was so easy. Like falling off a cliff.

He knew exactly what to do with her, how to handle her. She'd had satisfying encounters before, but in those instances she had taken charge and controlled her own amount of pleasure. She never let anyone have so much control over her. They didn't know how to do it right anyway. But with him – it was as if he'd had the secret to her his entire life, and she surrendered completely to him. She had no choice. In his capable, instinct-driven hands, she was helpless.

And as for her – well, she was, for the moment, completely taken over by her own instinct. Her rational mind did not know what to do with him – did not know the exact way he preferred, the secret places she could touch to drive him crazy – how could she? They had never been together like this, and they _never_ discussed it. But in a stunningly rare moment, instinct was strong. Her rational mind had completely given in tonight anyway, so she rose to the challenge and met him in skill in every way. And her name was ragged on his lips, and his name was breathless on hers, and he called her 'baby'.

She always had known they would be good together in bed, great even, but she never imagined the kind of supernova that it had become.  
>It was so wonderful, so intensely incredible, she almost couldn't stand it. It was as she'd never experienced, as he'd never experienced. And they held on to it, clung to it, drowning out the grief of death by this perfect celebration of life. She'd never been more aware of her own beating heart, the beauty of being <em>alive<em>, then she was now. And neither had he.

It was clear then that they had always been meant for this. Not just as a man and a woman, but as Booth and Bones. They were each other's missing face, and they fit together like perfect puzzle pieces.

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><p>{…}<p>

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><p>When the dim light of morning came filtering through the blinds, they lay there tangled in each other's arms, each still quietly smoldering with the embers of their fiery blaze. He looked at her, watched her as her luminescent eyes drifted out of focus in pensive thought. She had never been more beautiful to him. Her skin seemed to gently glow in the weak morning light, a gentle shine to it that marked her has his own. He felt a warmth spread throughout him at the thought. Her face seemed peaceful, serene, but behind it there still lurked a distant sadness.<p>

He brushed the hair from her face, and she glanced up at him.

"How do you feel?" he asked, very softly.

"Happy," she replied, smiling genuinely for a brief moment. But then her brow furrowed. "But also scared. And sad. Why do I still feel sad, Booth?"

He didn't smile. His expression was gentle, but concerned. "Because Vincent is still dead, Broadsky is still out there, and when we leave this morning we have to face all of it again. What happened here will just feel like a dream. Hopefully a good dream..." he added, glancing at her for confirmation.

She grinned reassuringly, brushing her fingers along his chin. "Better than any dreams I've ever had."

He took her hand in his and kissed it. "Nothing has to change, you know. If you don't want it to."

"Booth," she objected, "Weren't you present for all that? Didn't you feel it? I'm quite certain everything has to change now. It's exactly as I feared. I can't go back to how it was…"

He chuckled very softly – the sound resonating in his chest like distant thunder. "I'm glad you think so too. But we don't have to figure it all out now. I think we just have to focus on today."

"Yes…" agreed Brennan reluctantly. She didn't want to leave, to go back to the horrible ruins of their normal daily routine. She'd have to face more sadness today, and she wouldn't be able to run to him for comfort. At least her grief from last night had abated a little. Still, everyone else was going to want to talk about it, and she only wanted to talk to _him_ about it.

And he would have to hunt down a deadly sniper. A sniper who wanted, specifically, to kill _him_. Wild fear raced through her and she shivered as the realization hit her.

He drew her in closer. "Cold?" he asked with soft concern.

"No," she said honestly. "Just…worried. What if-?"

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said soothingly, cutting her off. "No worries here. This is a good place, a safe place. And look, Bones, everything is going be okay. Got it?"

She sighed, surrendering to the feeling of sweet delight that had lingered since that first breathless kiss. She snuggled into his warm chest, curling into his arms once again. "Okay."

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><p><em>{Next up, that conversation with Angela we missed, because Hodgins so inconveniently interrupted. RR, if you please!}_


	2. Chapter 2

At the lab that morning, Brennan found herself totally and completely unable to concentrate. When she arrived, she heard Cam on the phone, her voice sounding unstable and deeply grieved. Brennan hurried out of earshot.

She skirted a wide berth around the platform, which was roped off with crime tape and closed to further use for the time being. She tried not to look, but her gaze unconsciously drifted up onto the platform, onto the smear of so much blood. When were they going to clean it?

Her pace quickened with her sudden fierce desire to escape to an interior room. This place, her truest home, now had a tragedy staining its floor, and for the first time perhaps ever, she did not feel safe here.

She fled into the exam room where Lisenger's bones were being kept. Here was order and simplicity and reason. She approached the exam table with a sense of profound relief. Her entire world might be shifting ten degrees, but at least this would always be a constant.

She didn't know how long she sat arranging and re-arranging his skeletal structure, examining every bone under a microscope. It was comforting work, automatic and familiar. Each bone in its place, each injury cataloged meticulously. After a while, without reference to time or conversation, she settled on the skull. She picked it up, held it in her hands. Its weight was familiar; it's shape and dimension well known to her.

She stared into the blank face, studied it, but did not really process. She had a disconnect, a rare moment, when she could not separate her work from her thoughts. She could only vaguely think about the face in front of her. The majority of her focus was elsewhere. Her mind transported her back into the bedroom, tucked up beside Booth, filled with an acute regret, so fierce it almost made her angry, that they had wasted so much time being apart, when being together was so incredibly good. Booth was right. It did feel like a dream, like that reality could not possibly exist in this one. She stared at the face of the skull in front of her. It stared back. Neither saw each other.

Angela came in, citing an earlier conversation that Brennan could not remember. She didn't recall her dear friend coming in once before, or apparently telling her about the skull. It surprised her how she'd forgotten so completely. But she was awfully distracted, so perhaps it was excusable.

Perceptive, feeling, Angela sensed there was something so much larger going on, and her concern bubbled up to the surface. She asked if this was about Vincent, and Brennan thought carefully before answering.

"Yes."

Angela's expression became sad, and understanding. She searched for the right words to say.

"And…" Brennan hesitated. She didn't know if she ought to share this secret thing that had happened, didn't know that it should be kept all to herself. But Angela was her best friend, and she needed help making sense of it. And Angela had always been the biggest proponent of she and Booth getting together. So, slowly and quietly, she revealed her secret.

"I got into bed with Booth last night…"

There were several beats of loud silence in which Angela's face transformed into one of utter shock. Her mouth fell open in this small, uncomprehending shape and she could do nothing but stare.

Brennan shifted with discomfort. Was her friend horrified? "Why aren't you saying anything?"

Angela expelled an incredulous breath. "Because I don't want to shout Hallelujah so close to losing Vincent!"

She shrugged a little."I think I did it because of Vincent…"

Angela shook her head, scrambled half-words crowding each other out of her mouth. "What exactly happened after you…" she sort of laughed in amazement. "After you _crawled into bed with Booth_?"

Brennan looked down, her brow a little furrowed, uncomfortable, uncertain, and feeling totally out of her element. She still wasn't entirely sure she wanted to reveal what had actually happened. Maybe it was better if Angela thought they just slept side by side, in the same bed, but not together.

But when she glanced up at Angela's eager, astounded, and affectionate face, she couldn't help the breathless laugh and coy smile. It gave her away.

Angela's eyes widened in disbelief, she was about to speak when then they were suddenly interrupted by an animated Hodgins, rattling off something about the case that neither of them really cared for just this moment.

Angela reacted strongly, dismissing him quickly and forcefully. Brennan blinked in surprise, glancing at Hodgins' stunned and bewildered expression. She'd never seen Angela give an order like that. Apparently he hadn't either. He stormed off a little heatedly.

Angela immediately turned back to Brennan. "Let's go to your office. Come on." She took her by the hand and practically dragged her down the hall.

Brennan looked around to see if anyone was watching them, feeling conspicuous now that her deep secret was out. Of course nobody paid attention to them. They were all working in grief, trying not to see Vincent's blood stain on the platform. Besides, they knew Angela and they knew Brennan and it would not be odd to see them zipping through the Lab together.

They retreated into Brennan's office, closing the door immediately behind them.

Angela pushed her down onto the couch and sat down next to her, with some effort given her large, nearly full-term abdomen. She turned and faced Brennan completely.

"Okay, so what happened? Start at the beginning."

Brennan grinned a little, mostly out of discomfort, and shrugged. "I don't know where the beginning is."

"How did you get into his bed in the first place?" Angela asked patiently. "What happened after you got to his apartment? Did you just rush straight in there after a mad elevator makeout?"

"No, not at all like that. I was trying to sleep on his couch, but… I couldn't." Her amused demeanor shifted as she recalled those lonely hours of fear and torment and intense grief. "It was awful, Ange. I completely lost my ability to rationalize. Logic and reason were not soothing. My considerable intellect was of no use, it could offer no explanations."

"You seemed to be doing alright before," Angela sympathized.

"Yes, I thought I was fine. Sad, but fine. So I don't know what happened, but I kept hearing Vincent's voice over and over, begging to stay. So I…went to his room."

"And he explained everything? Comforted you?" she urged after it appeared Brennan might stop there.

"Yes," came the reply. A tingle ran up her spine and a funny feeling churned deep inside at the fresh surge of memory of what came next. "And... we kissed…"

"Finally," Angela breathed softly. "Go, go. Keep going."

Brennan shrugged again, a faint flush running over her cheeks. "And it just happened. What do you want me to explain?"

"I need you to be specific. Not graphic, but specific," explained her friend. "Brennan, _what_ just happened?"

She was never, _never_ shy or skittish when it came to talking about these things. Why was it so hard for her to say now? The clinical terms felt crass and vulgar when applied to what actually happened. Her sharp mind recalled for her all the silly, ridiculous nicknames Booth used to avoid actually saying it, but those felt juvenile and just as wrong as the clinical terms. But then she settled on a memory. It was a memory that perfectly described what had happened, even though Angela would not know it.

"We… made love." Her voice was soft, intense, and full of sincerity because that is exactly what they had done. She shook her head, smiling a little, now able to understand the meaning in a profound way.

Angela sucked in a deep breath, her eyes glittering with explosive joy she tried to contain. She grabbed Brennan's hand and pulled her in for a tight congratulatory hug. "Hallelujah," she exclaimed quietly, apparently deciding that the occasion had warranted the word, despite Vincent's so-recent loss.

It was a little awkward as Brennan had to lean over the obstacle that had become her friend's midsection. She jumped in surprise when she felt the baby kick, jabbing her in the ribs.

Angela laughed. "He's as excited for you as I am."

"Doubtful," said Brennan, extricating herself from the embrace. "The baby is probably just reacting to your increased heart-rate." But she smiled, putting a hand on Angela's stomach where she'd felt the kick.

Happiness seemed to be bursting from every pore for Angela, but she noticed Brennan's quiet, subdued, pleasure, as if she were less confident of her decision each passing moment.

"Hey," said Ange. "This is a good thing. You know that, right? You're happy, aren't you?"

Brennan looked at her and then down again quickly. "Yes. I'm happy."

"Well if that's happiness I don't know what sadness looks like."

She shifted, pulling her hand back into her own lap, glancing out the office window into the lab. "I wish it hadn't happened like that."

"Why?" gasped Angela. "It wasn't good? I thought you two would be great together. Like, really great."

"No, it's not that…" Brennan smiled again a little, but it faded fast. "I just wish it hadn't happened like that, prompted by grief. I feel like it was wrong, that it ruined it somehow. I know it sounds ludicrous. I should just be glad it happened, right? But I didn't want our first time together to be because someone _died_. I mean, objectively speaking, someone would have died anyway - because we work with death all the time and would probably have been brought together over some case. But I mean I didn't want it to be because someone we _knew _died. Because Vincent died."

"Yeah, I get it." Angela's voice was soft as she finally understood why Brennan wasn't as pleased as she ought to be. She sought for words to say, to comfort her dear friend. The truth was, she hadn't expected it to happen like this either, but that didn't mean it was somehow ruined. "Sweetie…"

"You think it _was_ wrong?" Brennan asked, with a touch more despair in her face than Angela was used to seeing.

"No, no. I don't think it was wrong at all. In fact I think it was… well, somehow I think it was right. Maybe Vincent dying was the perfect catalyst – I know -it sounds awful, just listen. You needed Booth last night, and maybe needing him opened the door to that unexplored frontier you two have locked away for so long. You needed him, and he shared your pain, and it wasn't about the huge hurdle you were about to leap, it was just about comfort, and being _together_. And, really, it was better this way because it wasn't planned. It wasn't logical. You did not talk about it before hand, or try to weigh the pros and cons of making that jump. It was illogical, it was spontaneous, born from the need just to feel alive with another person. And trust me, nothing about relationships are logical, so it's a good start. I think it was a good thing, Sweetie, no matter how you try to spin it."

Brennan considered this silently for a moment, processing what her friend was trying to say. She was right – she _had_ needed Booth last night, needed him to comfort her more than any other time of crisis. She'd needed him to explain Vincent's dying words, to explain the hole she felt piercing her heart. He had been through this before with his friends. Unconsciously, she had known nobody would be able to soothe her better than he could.

She so rarely actually _needed_ him. Maybe it gave him the confidence to advance, maybe it gave her the humility to let him.

"I don't know if we are in a relationship, technically," she confessed after a moment. "But I don't see how we can go back to what we were before."

Angela smiled, seeing that something had been said to make her friend abandon the guilt she felt. Already Brennan's countenance was clearing.

"So it was good?"

Again, a faint race of color bloomed in the anthropologist's cheeks and she grinned, looking at her hands. "It was quite satisfying. Indescribable, actually"

Angela's grin became huge, overtaking her whole face. "I knew it."

"I wish we hadn't waited so long. All the time we've wasted…"

"You weren't ready, hun. And trust me, you needed to be ready for this. He's your 'One'."

Brennan laughed. "I don't believe in that."

"I think you do," Angela insisted, taking her friend by the hand. "Something tells me that after last night, you secretly do."

Brennan smiled at her, her eyes aglow with the gladness of having confessed to her dear sister. "You're a good friend, Angela. Sometimes I think I don't deserve you."

Angela chuckled and gave her another hug. "Feel better?"

"Yes." Brennan gave her hand a quick squeeze and stood up. "I better get back to work so I can help Booth kill Broadsky. Please, don't tell anyone about this…"

"Of course I wont, sweetie." Angela watched her friend walk out of the office, her promise binding the secret between them. She laughed again, shaking her head in wonder. The impossible had happened.

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><p><em>{Next chapter will be something that wasn't even vaguely mentioned in the finale, but we all know had to take place, in some way or another. And because I wanted to see how it might go down, I decided to write it. :3 Stay tuned. And maybe write a review while during the commercial break, eh?}<em>


	3. Chapter 3

_{Hope you're enjoying things so far! This scene has a place somewhere between the last two episodes. Enjoy! :D}_

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><p>Angela's first test had been a false positive.<p>

Brennan pulled into a parking lot at the hospital, repeating the fact to herself over and over. Angela's first test had been a false positive, no need to panic.

Anyone who saw her wouldn't know she was panicking, of course. She looked cool, calm, and perfectly collected as she stepped out her small Toyota and headed into the Outpatient lab.

Inwardly, however, she felt jittery and unsettled. There was a kind of dread boiling around somewhere, but she tried not to focus on it.

No need to worry yet – right? False positive. False positive. False positive.

It was her lunch break, but she had decided to skip eating that day. She felt positively awful, her stomach churning in a raging coup against her body. She attributed it to her nerves, the sick feeling that her world might be about to change again.

But she'd been feeling this way for more than a week. By evening she was so exhausted she could hardly function, and she was weak from hunger because she could not bring herself to eat when she felt so ill. It was a virus she'd caught, that's all. A virus that was stirring up her stomach and making her extraordinarily tired.

Still, objectively she knew her symptoms could be evidence of something else. Something that had aroused her suspicions enough to take the first test. Objectively, she knew the possibility was very real. But objectivity was frightening, and so she chose to believe it was just a virus.

The little incriminating stick lay buried in the bottom of her purse. She couldn't seem to go anywhere without it. It had been in there, wrapped in a little plastic zip-loc baggie, for days now. It's two pink lines glaring brightly at her whenever she took it out to look, just to convince herself she hadn't imagined it.

When Angela was with Wendell, she had a scare too. A false positive.

That's all this was.

She walked into the hospital, immediately assaulted with scents she'd never noticed before. Antiseptic, sterile scents that were reminiscent of the lab, but not an exact match. Scents had become so much more noticeable to her now, probably since many of them made her nausea worse.

At the counter, she gave them her name and said she was here for a blood draw. It took a bit of explaining, but finally she convinced them of who she was and why she didn't have a doctor order the test. She was perfectly capable of understanding the results herself. She showed them her Jeffersonian I.D. to convince them she knew enough about the medical field to read the test.

With great reluctance, they agreed and took her back. The phlebotomist was a young girl, chipper and friendly and reassuring, even though Brennan wasn't afraid of a little poke. She located her vein easily and in a swift, well-practiced move she had the needle gently buried beneath Brennan's skin. She was good at her job, it hadn't even stung.

She complimented Brennan on her nice bleeding skills. Good heart, she said. Brennan said an awkward thank you, and watched the vial fill with deep crimson.

Scarcely two minutes later, she walked out of the hospital with a bandage on her freshly poked arm.

They said they told her to come back in a couple hours if she wanted to read the results.

Booth called her while she was out. They weren't working on a case right now, so he hadn't talked to her yet that day. He wanted to know why she wasn't at the lab.

"How do you know I'm not?" she asked.

_"Because I am. I wanted to see if you would come with me to Sweets and Daisy's karaoke party with me tonight. I'm sure as heck not going alone. But Cam said you went out to lunch."_

"Yes, I'm out," she replied. "Why do you want to go?"

_"What are you doing? I'll come meet you."_

"No," she said hastily. "I'm… it's… something to do with my dad." She winced. It was difficult to lie to him.

_"Is he in trouble?"_ Booth's voice was low.

"No, he's fine. He just wanted the two of us to get some lunch. That's all." She leaned her head back against the seat, fighting another wave of illness.

_"Oh. Right. Okay. So do you want to go?"_

"To the party?"

_"Yeah."_

"No…"

_"Come onnnnn. Let's at least show up for a few minutes and give the kid a little support. Then we can split and go grab dinner."_

She sighed, not really in the mood to argue with him about it. "Fine. Just for a few minutes." Hopefully she'd feel less sick by the evening. She needed food, but at the moment she could not even entertain the thought.

There was a moment's hesitation. _"You okay, Bones?"_

"I'm alright, Booth," she replied, hoping that it would turn out to be true. "I just haven't quite recovered from that illness I contracted week."

_"Oh, yeah, okay."_ He seemed to accept her answer well enough. _"Well Angela's worried. She wants me to put her on the phone."_

"Alright," she agreed quickly.

There was a brief sound of fumbling and then came the sharp demanding voice of her friend.

_"Brennan! Where are you?"_

"Ange, are you alright? Are you going into labor?" Brennan asked anxiously.

_"No, sweetie, I'm not. But I could be, you know. And you wouldn't be here. I thought we were supposed to have lunch together?"_

Brennan sighed. "I'm sorry. I can't today. Maybe we can tomorrow, if you aren't having your baby."

_"You better have a good explanation,"_ Angela sulked.

"I'm with my dad," she lied again. "I'll tell you about it sometime." Maybe. Depending on the results.

_"Alright. Well, at least bring me back some fries from the Diner. I'd kill for some of those right now."_

"I'll get some," she promised.

_"Okay. See you in a bit."_

"Bye."

There was another static exchange and Booth got back on the line. _"So I'll come by and get you around seven. Good?"_

"That's fine."

_"Take something to feel better. You can be a little grumpy when you don't feel good. Daisy makes everyone grumpy, so, you know. Take precautions."_

"I will." She smiled a little, despite herself.

_"Alright."_

There was a click and she knew he'd hung up. She looked at her watch. How to kill time for the next hour and forty-five minutes?

* * *

><p>{...}<p>

* * *

><p>The phone ringing woke her up. She startled, fumbling around in her reclined seat to find the little vibrating brick. Her head felt foggy and disoriented, still struggling to come out of her deep, coma-like sleep.<p>

"Doctor Brennan," she answered when she finally found it.

It was the hospital lab. Her results were in if she wanted to come take a look.

Suddenly her mind was razor sharp. She glanced up at the clock. It had been two and a half hours. She was still in the parking lot.

Her heart began to drum uncertainly in her chest as she told them she'd be right in. She got out of the car again, and once again made the long walk back into the outpatient lab.

It was going to be false – it had to be. She did not even wish to consider the implications of any other result. That little stick in her purse was wrong. It weighed so little, but having it the bag made it feel somehow heavier. It was a loud presence, and she determined that after she read the negative results, she was going to throw the thing out.

Her stomach still ached, but it seemed a little less queasy, if by a degree. She tried to rally herself, tried to drag her mind back into objectivity. Whatever the outcome was, she still had to return to work. She needed to get a hold of herself.

So, with a valiant attempt at stoicism, she approached the desk where they gave her a sheet listing the hormone levels they found in her blood.

She took it with thanks and walked over to a chair to sit down and read through it. Her hands started to tremble a little and all her resolve to remain cool and collected began to crumble.

She skipped over the other hormones, seeking out only that telltale hCG.

_522 mIU of hCG found_.

Silence enveloped her entirely – all the sounds of the hospital were sucked into a void. She was perfectly alone, starting down at those little black letters burned into the sheet of white.

_522 mIU of hCG found_.

About twenty days. Almost three weeks. She was already almost three weeks…_pregnant._

A baby. She was going to have a baby! Even now it was becoming a person. A little heart had already formed. A child. _Her_ baby.

The sounds came crashing back down around her and suddenly she was back in the world. She realized there was a tiny smile on her face and quickly killed it.

She quickly glanced through all the other hormones, just to make sure she was otherwise alright. Her other levels seemed to indicate she was exceptionally healthy, and the pregnancy was progressing normally.

Folding the paper carefully, she tucked it in her purse, pushing it down to the bottom next to the home pregnancy test – not a false positive, after all – and stood up to leave.

A curious sensation swept over her, a change in her perception of the world. She was now guarding an important secret. It separated her from the other women she walked past on the way to the car. She was creating life, right now, deep inside her. Nobody could see it yet – they didn't know. Right now, it was all her own.

For a brief moment, she felt a sweeping sense of joy and triumph and protectiveness, and a girlish laugh escaped her. She got into the car, buckling her seatbelt over her now precious cargo, and started the engine.

But just as quickly as the gladness had come, came now a crushing sense of disaster. This was going to change _everything_. She had tumbled off some irreversible cliff. She wasn't ready for this.

_They_ weren't ready for this.

As she drove away from the hospital, for the first time, she thought of the other person involved. Her baby's father. How on earth was she going to tell him? _Was_ she going to tell him yet? Eventually she'd have to, but she was suddenly scared. Nervous to tell him. Would he be upset?

They'd only been together a few times – and that time after Vincent's death was apparently when she had conceived. The day after, when he killed Broadsky, they'd gone to dinner with their friends and afterwards he'd driven her home. They didn't talk about it. She kissed him lightly on the cheek, telling him she was glad he was alive tonight, and went inside. He went home.

A few nights later, at her place this time, they gave in again. There was only one other time after that. They were together, but they hadn't really defined it yet, so they tried to keep things under control. And then she got sick – or, as she now understood, her symptoms started to take over. She was so tired at night that she was barely on her bed before she was out cold. She felt sick during the days, and her breasts were unbelievably sore, so that effectively killed her desires during the waking hours.

He hadn't said anything about it, but sometimes she wondered what he thought.

Now she really wondered.

One time. One time was all it took for their lives to jump its track and go spinning wildly out of control. Would he be angry? Would he ask her why she hadn't been on the pill? Would he panic and… what had he said? Panic and run into walls?

And what about her? Was she, herself, on the verge of that too? After careful thought, she decided she wasn't. Shocked, perhaps, and made dizzy by the sensation that someone had pulled the world out from under her feet. But this was what she'd wanted, wasn't it? So long ago, before they were together, before Hannah, before Maluku, before Sweet's book, before Booth's coma. She wanted his baby. Right? ...But that was a rational decision, made in a time when her life was under control and still going as she had planned.

Now, nothing was as she had planned. It was breathtaking and exhilarating, speeding off on this unknown trajectory, but now it had accelerated even more. She hadn't even grown used to the idea that she and Booth were together. Now they were irreversibly linked, so much more than together. Everything was so, so far out of her control.

This was something she had never imagined.

As she was driving back to the lab, she remembered Angela's request and stopped at the diner.

The moment she was inside, her stomach roiled once again in protest to all the smells that assaulted her. The smell of fried fish and burgers and chicken and potatos and every other awful thing that made her gag. She couldn't stand it – she wanted to run.

"Can I get you something, hun?" said the waitress with a smile. She knew Brennan. She knew everyone from the team. They came here so often.

"Fries," she managed to say, despite her revulsion. "To go."

"Alrighty." The waitress glanced at her at she was walking toward the kitchen. "You okay? You don't look so good?"

"Fine." Brennan didn't want to talk, she just wanted to get the fries and escape quickly before she lost whatever meager offerings remained in her stomach.

A few minutes later, she walked back out into the fresh air, clutching her bag of hard-won fries. She breathed deeply, gulping the air desperately.

This time she didn't wonder what bug she'd picked up that was making her so sick.

* * *

><p>{…}<p>

* * *

><p>Back at the lab, she sought out Angela to give her the fries, feeling slightly less nauseous.<p>

Angela was huge, that's all there was to it. She didn't puff up like some pregnant women did – no fat face or swollen cankles, but her belly protruded from her like a mountain. She seemed to be struggling with the burden more and more these days, hobbling around as if every movement made her uncomfortable.

Brennan watched her with anxiousness now, acutely aware that this would be her own fate in just a few months.

"Thanks Sweetie, I've been dying for these," said Angela, gratefully taking the bag.

Brennan sat down on her couch, suddenly seized with the desire to be near her best friend, even if she had no intention whatsoever of revealing the secret she now possessed.

"How was lunch with your dad?" Angela asked.

Brennan shrugged. "It was fine. He just wanted to talk about Russ and Amy and the girls. And my mom."

Angela glanced at her, searching for something. "Are you okay after a conversation like that?"

"Yes. I've come to terms with everything that happened. It's alright." How easily the lies came. And how strange, the sudden twinge she felt when she mentioned her mother, and thought of the little life forming inside her.

"Well, Booth was pretty bummed you weren't here." Angela slid the fries out of the bag, snagging one quickly. "You guys doing the whole girlfriend/boyfriend thing now?"

"No," said Brenna quickly. "I don't think that's what we're calling it. I don't know for certain. We haven't… been together since that first week. And even then, it only happened three times."

"But it's been over two weeks!" Angela protested.

"I know." And she did know. Oh how she knew. Twenty days, to be precise, since the first time.

"I thought we were over all this complicated nonsense."

Brennan looked down at her hands. "It's more complicated than I realized."

Angela snorted, chomping on her fry. "Well, I just hope you get it sorted out before this baby comes."

Doubtful, considering Angela could have it any day. Brennan watched her friend eat, wondering how on earth she could even entertain the idea of ingesting such odorous things. She wanted to ask if it got better – if the desire to eat returned after a while, but she didn't. She didn't because she knew the answer, she knew the facts about pregnancy, and she didn't because she didn't want her friend to suspect anything.

"Are you nervous?" she asked quietly.

Angela seemed surprised by the question, but she answered truthfully. "Terrified. Sometimes I get panicked when I wonder how on earth I'm going to get this giant baby out of me. Sometimes I think it wont be possible."

"It will," Brennan assured her quickly. "Your hips and pelvic area began to shift a long time ago, early in your pregnancy, to prepare more room for both gestation and birth. Besides, when you go into labor your cer-."

"Thanks, hun, I took the class," Angela interrupted. "I know how it's supposed to work, but sometimes it just _feels_ impossible. It's kind of scary, you know. I have no idea what I'm doing. I've never done it before."

Brennan understood. She was scared too. She'd never done it before either, and she was hoping to learn from her friend's experience.

"But you know…" Angela's voice grew soft and a luminous, gentle smile tipped the corner of her mouth. "Most of the time, I'm more excited than scared. I just can't wait to meet him, or her. Even though I know our baby might be blind, I just want to hold him in my arms, kiss his little face, sing him a lullaby."

Brennan listened with quiet wonder, spellbound by the portrait Angela painted with those words. She couldn't even imagine it for herself yet. The idea was still too foreign. But it made something inside her grow warm and tender. She smiled. "You keep referring to it as male. Do you know for certain?"

"No," Angela laughed. "We didn't find out. But it's easier to just give the baby a gender. I hated calling him 'it'. If it's a girl, it's alright. She wont know that we referred to her as a boy before she arrived."

"That's reasonable." Brennan grinned, feeling at least a little better after the conversation. "Do you have everything you need for him?"

"Yep. Hodgins got the whole nursery put together a couple months ago; he got too excited. We're ready, as far as the physical needs go."

"I am happy for you." She looked down at her hands, a softer smile on her face. "It's so close now."

"Yeah, I have a hard time not thinking about it every second, day and night."

There was a brief silence as Brennan considered her own situation. She was a master at compartmentalization, she was confident that as soon as the novelty of her situation wore off – after she found the courage to tell Booth – she'd soon be able to think of other things. She hoped it wouldn't consume her every thought. Angela had managed well enough until the very end.

She shook her head. "You know what we need right now?"

"What?"

"A case."

Angela laughed. "Yeah, we need somebody to get killed so we can get our minds off the baby. No wonder we don't have friends outside of work."

* * *

><p><em>{So finally, next chapter will be the post-finale scene. I haven't decided if I'm going to break it into two chapters or leave it as just a great big one. Anyway, should be up later today! R&amp;R, please my lovlies. :D}<em>


	4. Chapter 4

_{Ah, you guys are too wonderful! Specifically a couple of you have left some very encouraging and helpful feedback - thanks! So here is our penultimate chapter. Originally it was one huge one, but I decided to chop it into two separate chapters. The other one will be up directly after this, so you wont have to wait. Usually I don't like typing out an entire scene from the cannon, but for that final scene between Booth and Brennan, I felt the scene would flow better. Hope you don't mind. Anyway, enjoy!}_

* * *

><p>She'd been right. The case <em>had<em> helped. It distracted her sufficiently, once they got going. She'd held tight to her secret for three days, but each day she felt it expanding – the secret, not her now fruitful womb. There would be no outward sign of it for a while. But the knowledge of it expanded so large it took up her entire mind, and for three days she could think of nothing else.

At Sweets and Daisy's karaoke party, she'd sat back and watched with amusement as Booth indulged Sweets by singing together a song she did not know. She tried to focus on what they were doing – it was very entertaining, from a humor standpoint. Daisy was being completely ridiculous, sometimes hanging all over Sweets in a way that made all their guests squirm with discomfort. But Brennan couldn't keep her thoughts from drifting. At one point Daisy came and sat down by her, bursting into drunken tears and sobbing _hard_ about the death of Vincent. This made her far more uncomfortable than anything else, and she was grateful when both Booth and Sweets came to her rescue – Booth by announcing they had lots of fun, but they had to leave because they'd already promised to meet Caroline for discussion on the Broadsky case. Sweets seemed disappointed, but he said okay and quickly attended to his unconsolable girlfriend.

Brennan was glad to be out of there. Booth sensed her relief, and attributed it to pain brought on by Daisy's outburst. She didn't correct him, though she had come to grips with Vincent's death very well by now. They'd gone to dinner – she made herself eat more than she would have, suddenly regretting now all her skipped meals because of nausea. It wasn't good for her little secret if she skipped meals. Booth noticed she ate more than night than she had in the last week – he was encouraged. It meant she was getting better.

He asked if she wanted to come to his place, she agreed. She wanted to be with him, even if she wasn't ready to tell him about her secret yet. So they went to his place, and he asked if she wanted a drink. She declined. He was surprised, but not suspicious. And then they went to bed. She curled up in his strong, safe arms, he kissed her neck, and that was the extent of it. He must have sensed that while she wanted to be near him, she didn't want anything more than that tonight, because he didn't even try. He just let her lie there, listening to her gentle breathing, her skin warmer to the touch than he remembered.

She slept fretfully.

For the last three nights they'd done that – returned to his place after a night out, he'd offer a drink which she'd refuse, and then they would go to bed to do nothing more than just sleep.

And then they got their case. And she could focus on doing what she did best – solving murders. She was eager to step into the role of Wanda, and play the part of Buck's fiancé. She found it liberating, and was able to let slip a hint to her secret a couple times, within the safety of her cover story. And she almost forgot about it, when the case got interesting. Almost. But it was always there, lurking in the back of her mind.

Fortunately, Booth did not ask Max about the lunch they supposedly had together three days before. He'd either forgotten, or was too focused on the case. Max suspected something had finally happened between his daughter and the agent, but his suspicions were confirmed when he prompted Booth to pull her in for a kiss on the cheek that was none too forced. And her laugh was genuine enough to convince him.

But neither of them ever became suspicious of _her_ secret. Except for Angela, and apparently now Max, no one knew their combined secret – the one that seemed so much less important to her now. This one, right now, was all her own.

When she heard Angela was in the hospital, she started to think about it again. She was glad when the case wrapped up in time to go. She was eager to get away from that vicious, angry little girl. What had the parents done wrong to produce such a violent creature?

At the hospital, she and Booth kept their distance. She chose not to sit beside him, but rather sat by herself, clutching the soft stuffed rabbit they'd bought. Cam, Wendell, and Sweets were there too, but nobody said a word. They were all silent in that waiting room.

And she felt nervous, terrified for her friend. She feared for Angela, and feared for herself. She wished she could be there, in the room, to know what to expect – and at the same moment she wanted to be as far away from it as possible. She didn't want to face the idea that she would have her own turn in there very soon.

Her emotions were fragile. She felt scattered, like any moment she might fly into a million pieces. Physically impossible, of course, but it didn't keep her from thinking it. She felt Booth glance at her from time to time, but she didn't want him just now. She wanted to be alone with her feelings, with her fears. He wouldn't have to go through it – she would.

And once, she fooled herself into imagining she could hear Angela's wail, and she shifted with anxiety, forcing back the shudder of dread that threatened to give her anxiety away.

But then, after what felt like an eternity, Hodgins came out, his face beaming in a way she'd never seen before. He was holding a tiny bundle, wearing the signature hat of Angela's father. They all gathered around little Baby Michael. And he was _beautiful_, and a miracle, and Brennan marveled that her friends had created him – that he was who they had been waiting for these past ten months.

But right now, her heart yearned more for the welfare of the mother than the baby, so she let the others crowd around. She glanced at Booth, and he gave her a warm look. She wished he knew – wished she had told him, so that when he looked at the baby, he would know that too soon he would be in Hodgin's place.

She left them, quietly walking on her own back to the room where Angela lay resting.

Angela was glowing. Her brow and neck glistened with sweat and her hair clung to her in slick skin, but her expression was so peaceful and happy. She was beautiful. Looking at her, one could tell she'd been through some impossible physical event, but there was such quiet joy on her face that Brennan felt calmed, and happy.

It was wonderful, and beautiful, and it was a dream. Words that Brennan never imagined her friend would say when she sat there so fearful in the waiting room, but words that seemed to perfectly describe the mood in the room. For that moment, she was not thinking about her own situation, she was only radiating with happiness for her friend, who was clearly so happy.

Brennan sat down on a stool beside the bed, and Angela took her hand. They sat in mutual silence for a while, no words needing to be shared.

And then Hodgins returned, with the group following behind him. He was grinning from ear to ear.

"Hey, hun. You up for some visitors?" he asked very gently.

"You mean for our family," said Angela, giving everyone who came in a weary, but warm smile. "Of course. Did you meet our son?"

"He's incredible, Ange," said Booth. He glanced at Brennan.

Hodgins gently handed the baby back to the new mother, who took her son with all the love and tenderness in the world.

"Hi, darling," she crooned. "I missed you."

Brennan rested her head on Angela's shoulder. "He is the most beautiful baby I've ever seen."

Angela smiled, kissing her tiny child on the head. "I know you're not just exaggerating, because you don't do that. So thank you." She glanced at her friend, seeing something in her face that prompted her to ask, "Do you want to hold him?"

"You just got him back," Brennan protested.

"I want him to know you. You're his aunt. Go on, it's okay."

Brennan _did_ want to hold him. So she stood and went over to the sink, washing her hands with meticulous care. He was a newborn, and his little immune system was entirely too fragile right now.

The murmured conversation of the others was completely lost on her as she returned to the side of the bed and Angela transferred the little squirming bundle to her.

He fit snugly into the cradling shape of her arms, as if she were made all along to hold a baby in just that way. His little eyes peeped open, dark like his mother's. His little brows puckered as he tried to focus. She smiled at him, brushing her thumb along his soft cheek.

Warmth flooded through her, a heat that filled her every limb. She felt a sudden infusion of love, for Angela and Hodgins, for Michael, for Booth, for her precious little secret who she suddenly could not wait to hold. Tears rose unbidden to her eyes and she struggled to keep the others from seeing them. "Oh Angela," she whispered. "I don't believe in miracles, but this... this comes pretty close."

Angela smiled, watching her best friend cradle her newborn son. "You look good with him, sweetie."

Brennan glanced up at Booth, her cheeks burning a little when she saw that even though he was talking to Hodgins, both of them were watching her with the baby. Booth had a curious expression on his face that she could not read.

Quickly, she looked down at the baby again. Looking at his sweet little face, so concerned with his first half hour of life, washed away her self-consciousness and made her smile again.

* * *

><p>{…}<p>

* * *

><p>Brennan stayed right beside Angela for a long time – until Cam, Wendell, and Sweets had finally gone, until the nurse told her she needed to go, until Angela, exhausted and weary, began to drift off to sleep. And then finally she left. Booth had stayed too, waiting for her to have her fill of the moment.<p>

They walked side by side into the night, each quiet with their own thoughts.

"They looked so happy…" she said after few blocks of walking in silence.

"Yeah, well, they had a baby," Booth explained. What other kind of reaction was there?

She let out a soft, nervous breath. "Their whole lives have changed, you'd think they'd be a little more apprehensive." In her own voice she could hear it, her own apprehension, a thousand deep fears echoed in those few brief words.

He heard it too, sort of, but interpreted it differently. "Well, you know, having a baby, that's a good thing."

She paused in her step, glancing at him uncertainly. "You… you really think that?"

"Yeah, it's a great thing. Why?" He slowed, turning towards her.

But she could neither speak or take a single step further. The secret, her tiny secret, with a heart already beating, still protected from anyone else, still hidden. She was afraid. She couldn't tell him. How could she tell him?

Booth heard her loud silence and saw worry in her face. "Oh, come on, Bones, look. The baby… the baby's fine. They had a healthy baby, alright? They love each other, this is the happiest day of their lives! Okay?"

Her gaze flicked down and back up to him, wanting so badly to say something, not knowing how. He said all this, all these reassuring things, but it was about Hodgins and Angela's baby. What would he think about their baby? _Their_ baby. Would he still think having a baby is a great thing?

"What?" he demanded, growing more and more alarmed by the look on her face.

She sucked in a deep breath, her heart beating a little harder in her chest. She just had to do it. She had to say it. There was no other moment. He needed to know. This knowledge she was guarding, it belonged to him too. And she so desperately wanted him to know.

"I'm…" she hesitated, the words catching. "I'm pregnant…"

There. There it was. It was out.

His face went blank.

She forged ahead, lest there be any misunderstanding. "You're the father."

Her brows drew together briefly in doubt when his expression didn't change at first. She regretted her own words, the reality of them, the revealing of this thing she had been hiding, and so uncertain of his reaction. She couldn't take them back. It was out.

And then, slowly, as the impact of those words sunk in, there was a change. At first a twitch at the corner of his mouth, and then it grew. She watched the slow-motion smile transform his face from one of dumfounded speechlessness, to astonished joy. His smile was huge and his eyes had illuminated in a way she'd never seen.

And she released a little puff of air, a tiny laugh, echoing his own, feeling a huge smile of her own responding to his. She could scarcely believe what she was seeing.

And then he was there, sweeping her up, cradling her head as he kissed her _hard_, and she laughed, and he laughed. He set her back down, his face marveling, a large hand coming to rest on the smooth plane of her abdomen, over the place where their little child was forming. A strong, capable hand that would protect and defend that life, both of their lives.

"A baby," he breathed, kissing her again, so softly this time.

"You aren't mad…" She was weak with relief, and filled with a sort of euphoria that she hadn't experienced since those first few moments when she realized she was carrying.

He was still grinning as hugely as before, and his exuberant joy was contagious. "Mad? Of course I'm not mad, Bones. Are you kidding? This is the greatest night of my life."

"But everything's going to change now," she explained. "We didn't plan on this. It happened the first time…"

"Oh man, we _are_ good, aren't we? The first time?" he laughed shakily. He brushed the hair back from her face, his eyes shining. "It's okay, baby, everything's going to be fine. Trust me."

"I do trust you," she said simply, giving him a gentle smile. She didn't protest his petname, though ordinarily it would have irritated her. He had called her that all night, that night of Vincent's death. It hadn't bothered her then, but she felt it was inappropriate for any time other than the bedroom. Right now he was just so happy, she decided to let it stand.

He took her hand. "Come on, we're going back to my place to celebrate."

* * *

><p>{...}<p>

* * *

><p>"<em>That's<em> why you've been refusing to drink the last little while," he said with realization as they got into his apartment and he went to his fridge.

"Yes. That's going to have to stop."

He paused in his rummaging, grinning hugely at a resurfacing memory. He shook his head, snatching two sodas for them.

"But Coke is okay, right?"

"Yes, in moderate amounts caffeinated sodas are fine. But I'm not thirsty."

He quickly abandoned the drinks. "Okay, okay, so what do you want to do?"

She shook her head a little, grinning. He was so animated. It was incredible. She was still reeling from his exuberant reaction to all of this.

He grabbed her hand and pulled her to the couch, sitting next to her eagerly. "Okay, so tell me, tell me everything. Say it again first, so I can really believe it."

There was a quick, half-laughing expulsion for air. She shook her head again, her smile never fading. "Booth, we're going to have a baby."

He laughed too, deeply, breathlessly, emotion making his laugh husky and quiet. "That's incredible."

"Yes," she agreed.

"How long have you known about it?" he asked.

"Remember when you came to the lab, and I wasn't there? I told you I was out with my father?"

"Yeah."

"I wasn't. I didn't meet him at all that day. I was at the hospital getting a blood test. I thought maybe the home test was a false positive."

"Ah, why didn't you tell me?" he asked, his eyes growing wide. "I would have been there for you! That was probably tough to do alone."

"I know you would have been, but actually it was easier to do alone. It gave me time to process the information."

"Does Angela know?"

"No. I thought you should be the first one I told. That is how it works, isn't it, in our society's tradition? The father should be informed before anyone else?"

He grinned. "Yeah, usually, but not everyone does. Thanks, though. I mean it. I'm glad this is just between us right now."

She looked down at her hands, resting in her lap, so near the place where her little embryo lay, living and growing every minute. "I don't want anyone else to know yet."

"Okay," he agreed. He didn't want anyone else to know either – not yet. "We wont tell them until you're ready."

"That might not be until the likelihood of miscarriage has diminished," she explained, to which she saw him shudder. "It's a reality we have to face, Booth. Do you know the percentage of pregnancies which end in spontaneous miscarriage in the first trimester?"

"No, and I don't want to know. That's my kid in there, let's have a little optimism, huh?"

"I'm just being realistic."

"I know you are, because you're you and you can't help yourself," he sighed. But a moment later, after a minute of silence, he grinned again. "My kid. That feels pretty good to say."

"You have a kid," she observed. "How do you think Parker will react?"

Booth chuckled. "Psh, are you kidding, Bones? He'll be thrilled. He's been wanting a younger sibling for a while. Besides, he loves you. Trust me, he is going to be one happy camper."

"Is he going to attend a summer camp?"

"No, Bones, its an expression."

"Oh." She didn't get it. But she didn't need to, it was irrelevant to the larger conversation at hand. She wasn't entirely convinced about Parker's reaction. Booth had said he would love Hannah, but his son reacted very badly at first. Would he feel his father was replacing him? She worried. Apparently, though, Booth had moved on from the thought.

"I'll be the one to teach our kid about being normal, don't worry," he laughed. "You don't have to worry about learning all the silly expressions we us with kids."

"I'll learn them too, as you teach them."

He moved his hand into her lap to take one of hers. "One thing you will have to learn before the baby comes is how to lie better."

"What do you mean?" she asked, astonished by the question. "I don't want to _lie_ to my child!"

"Not lying to be deceptive, Bones."

"That is the very purpose of lying, Booth," she said flatly.

He needed to use an example. "Well, you know. Like Christmas! Our kid needs to believe in Santa. Or... or, look, even in normal things. Example: say it's going to be a girl, and she loves to dance. And say we put her in a dance class when she's three, okay? So we go to her recital, and watch her dance, and then afterward she asks us if we thought she was any good. What are you going to say?"

She thought about this, skipping past the fluttery feelings that arose from contemplating what her child's gender or interests might be, or attending an event as not just partners, but mother and father. "Objectively, I don't see how three year olds can be any good at dancing…"

"Would you tell her that?" he asked carefully.

She paused again in thought. "That might hurt her. Maybe she is better than the others in her class. Then I'd tell her I thought she was the best."

"What if she isn't? What is she's kind of clumsy and awkward but loves to do it anyway?" Given the fact that Bones was her mother, the possibility was very real.

"I have heard there is a bias that comes with parenthood. Speaking in terms of evolution, there is a proven benefit in parents favoring their own offspring. It's built in to our nature. I would probably see our child as better than the others anyway."

"Okay, but what do you tell her. She says 'Mommy, am I good at dancing?' And you say…?"

This felt like a test – a test which Brennan didn't know the answers too. She struggled between trying to know what the right thing to say was, and what truth and objectivity could allow. "_I_ thought you did very well?"

"That's pretty good. But maybe she insists. You have to lie. Try it with a little lie."

"Like what?"

"Like, 'You are the best dancer I've ever seen!'"

"But that's outrageous," she protested. "A gross exaggeration. That's not a little lie at all! That would instill in her the incorrect assumption than she is an exceptional dancer."

He laughed, pulling her in for a quick kiss on the cheek. "Don't worry, we have time to practice. You'll get the hang of it, especially once you hold that baby in your arms. In that moment, you'll realize you'd do anything, _anything_ to keep this little child protected from any hurts or injustice, or do anything to make her feel good about herself."

She leaned her head on his shoulder, weariness slowly seeping through her after the emotional rollercoaster that had become this evening. "I'm glad you've done this before," she sighed.

"Yeah, well, it's not going to be the same. With Parker, I was happy, but the happiness soon had a bitter after-taste because it was the end of my relationship with Rebecca. I was glad to have a son, but there was sadness there too."

She glanced down at their hands entwined, wondering, privately, what he thought they would become now. Did he expect her to marry him? She desperately hoped he wouldn't ask, because he'd been turned down so many times, to do so again might destroy him. But she still didn't really believe in marriage – the idea wasn't as utterly repulsive to her as it once had been, but she still would not choose it for herself.

"But this is different…? Booth, we don't even know what we are."

"Yes, this is different. We're a couple, whatever anyone else thinks. I don't want to be with anyone else. Do you?"

"No," she said quietly, fervently. She couldn't even consider it right now.

"So this is different. We're going to raise this kid together, Bones."

"Like a family?"

"Yes, you, me, and this baby, we'll be a family."

The thought comforted her, and yet in the same moment stressed her to no end. She didn't tell this to him, didn't tell him of the sudden panic that rose in her throat. For her, family meant abandonment and lies and secrets. The thought was terrifying. But she knew that for him, and for most people, family meant something wonderful. So she let the word, that wonderful, and awful word, dissolve into silence.

After a few minutes, he stood suddenly. "You've got to be tired. Let's get you two to bed. You need your rest."

She smiled at the plurality, even though she knew the little embryo inside her did not really have an identity yet. She stood up off the couch, but the moment she was up he swept her up into his arms.

"It's a long walk, my dear Wanda," he said in his best Buck voice.

She protested, trying to wriggle out of his arms. "I can make it."

"Nope. Can't let you do that." He marched off to the bedroom, laying her gently down on what had become her side of the bed.

She jumped up quickly, giving him a defiant look. "You going to change my clothes for me too?"

He grinned. "You want me to?"

"No." She hurried to peel off her clothes herself, feeling his eyes and amused smile watching her as she fumbled for the large sweatshirt of his she'd taken to wearing at night.

Meanwhile he changed too, into his casual nighttime tee-shirt and pajama pants she loved so much.

And they both fell back into the bed, side by side. She rolled to face him, and he rolled to face her, strong, capable hands gripping her tiny waist and pulled her into him, fitting her into the contours of his body, the way he loved, the way she loved.

"I thought you'd be mad. I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner," she murmured softly.

"I could never be mad about this, Bones," he assured her.

"I wasn't careful. It had been so long since I'd been with anyone – since I _wanted_ to be with anyone, except you. That wasn't a viable option, so I got relaxed. I didn't take precautions…" She had brought this huge, life-changing event upon them. She wanted him to know that she was the one to blame, when things got tough and he wanted out.

"Neither of us did," he replied. "We didn't plan what happened that night, we didn't anticipate it or prepare for it. It was born from the moment. It's okay! I don't regret it. If I could go back, I wouldn't change it. We didn't just make _love_ that night, Bones, we made a baby. I couldn't be happier."

"But why?" she was happy too, mostly, but there was also an element of fear about the whole thing that prevented her from reveling in it like he was. Fear of the unknown, fear that her carefully planned life and future was suddenly thrown entirely off track.

"Because my dreams are coming true," he rumbled softly, "The woman I love most, will always love most, is carrying my child. What could be better?"

A flush of pleasure heated her face, pleasure that fueled the gently burning fire in her chest. She didn't bother to contradict his impossible statement, about always loving her most, because she wanted to believe it was true.

He was being literal too, and that was maybe what made the biggest difference in convincing her that for him, this news was of supreme happiness. He'd been so sad those weeks after waking up from his coma, realizing that she was not his wife and they were not expecting a baby. He'd lost a life he loved in that world, and now it was becoming his reality, at least in part.

She shifted herself against him, scooting up so she could kiss him – because she could not resist.

The kiss lingered, warmth becoming heat, heat becoming fire. And this time, instead of sadness pushing them off that cliff, their mutual happiness sent them tumbling, together, into the free-fall of exquisite pleasure.

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><p><em>{Okay, so if you feel satisfied that the story ends here, go ahead and stop reading. The next chapter (originally part of this one) is short and fluffy, and pretty irrelevant, but it was fun to write and it's how I imagine the morning after would be. If you'd like to keep going, then be patient for just a few minutes while I post it. And whether or not you choose to advance, maybe leave a review while you're here?}<em>


	5. Chapter 5

_{This will most likely be the last chapter, and it's really more of an epilogue than anything else. Maybe, if there are people who want it, I might write a chapter jumping ahead a little to when they finally decide to tell people, since we wont get to see that in cannon either. But I haven't decided for sure yet. For now, this will be the last one.}_

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><p>She awoke that morning to gentle touches and soft, adoring kisses all over her body. It was a pleasant, subtle way to wake up. She was aware of the feather-light touches before she could comprehend that she was even asleep. Her lashes fluttered open, seeing that oh-so-familiar face so near to hers.<p>

"Good morning," he whispered, dropping a kiss under her chin.

"Morning." Her voice was hoarse, but her smile was genuine. "What are you doing?"

"Worshiping." His kisses trailed down the length of her body, across the smooth plane of her stomach, where he stopped to rest his cheek against her womb.

She ran a hand through his hair. "You know you wont be able to hear anything, right?"

"I'm not listening for something. I just want to be near my baby."

"_My_ baby," she corrected.

He grinned, that crooked, coy grin she loved so much. "_Our_ baby."

"Our own." She basked in the sweetness of the sound, of the meaning of the words.

"How do you feel?" he asked gently.

"Nauseous." And tired, and her breasts hurt, but she didn't add any of that, because she felt something else much more important. "And happy."

"Yeah?" He lifted his head, looking at her to see if her happiness was real.

It was. He saw it there, under the gentle pink of her cheeks, the starry look in her clear, intelligent eyes; the subtle, unconscious upturn of the corner of her lips.

"I'd be lying if I said I wasn't anxious too," she admitted softly. "But there will be time to worry later. Right now, I have decided just to be happy."

"Atta girl, that's right. This is a good thing. Right, baby?" By the end, he wasn't speaking to her, but rather murmuring softly to her abdomen. "It's okay for Mama to be a little nervous, just as long as she's still happy in the meantime, huh?"

"It can't hear you, Booth," she said in a quiet tone that indicated she thought he was ridiculous. "It's still an embryo, not even a fetus yet. It's hasn't developed any physiology capable of hearing."

"You know, Bones, sometimes its best to get the bonding process started early. This kid is gonna know you by default. It's going to know you from the first moment its little brain starts functioning. You're it's mother-,"

"It's host," Brennan said understandingly. "As something akin to a parasite, yes, I can see how that could be true. Though some parasites are not aware of their host, only their environment."

He let out an exasperated breath. "Good grief, Bones, you can't go around calling our baby a parasite!"

"I'm sorry. I know there are differences – though at this stage they are minute." She sounded contrite, but her words were not.

He muttered to her belly again. "You're going to have an weird childhood, kiddo."

She gave him a displeased look.

He continued. "Anyway, the _baby_ is going to know you instinctually. But me? I'm the threatening outside party. I wont get to know this baby until he or she is in my arms, and he or she wont know me until then either. So I've already got a disadvantage. I didn't get to do this with Rebecca, and I get a second chance, so I'm going to talk to this _baby_ as often as I want."

Brennan's look didn't change. "That's going to annoy me."

"Then I'll try to limit it to when you're not paying attention."

"Wha-? But it's my body, Booth! I think it's pretty obvious I'm going to know every time you lean over and start talking to my stomach." But as soon as her protest was out, she felt his laughter against her and knew he was joking. About how much of it she wasn't sure, which made her uneasy.

"Are you really going to talk at it?"

"Yes," he chuckled. "But I'll try not to do it in public."

"No, you can't!" she said, horrified. "Especially not before we tell anyone."

He kissed her stomach. "Don't worry, baby, I'll keep you a secret."

"You are impossible," she complained, but with a reluctant grin.

"You'll see, I bet you can't keep from talking to it either."

Brennan was quiet for a moment. "Angela said its easier to assign it a sex, even if it turns out to be false later. Better than calling it an 'it.' Even though it's technically not a person yet, its sex _has_ already been decided by your half of the DNA, so I find I am open to the idea. What are your thoughts?"

"You mean you're actually going to ask? I thought that you'd pretty much decide everything on your own."

"I can do that if you prefer, but I have decided to defer to you on many of these things, since I have no experience and you do."

He twisted around so he was sitting up, draping his arm over her. "Okay, well, sure. I think it's a good idea. I mean I don't like calling it 'it' either, and he-or-she is too obnoxious to say. Just as long as we don't fool ourselves into thinking that's what it's really gonna be, and go crazy buying all blue stuff, or all pink stuff."

"I intend to find out the sex of the baby before hand," she warned him.

He laughed. "See? Now _that's_ what I was expecting Temperance Brennan to do. Make the executive decision."

"So you don't object?" she asked, ignoring his remark.

"Nope, not a bit." He thought for a moment. "So, what are we going to say? Him or her?"

Brennan thought about it. "Which do you prefer?"

He shrugged. "Look, I know boys. I have a son. And girls… girls are difficult. I would have no idea how to deal with that. I'll admit, I'm kind of hoping for a boy, but I'll be happy either way. Just as long as it's _our_ kid -part me, part you- it could be an alien for all I care."

"Unless you are part alien yourself, I don't see how that's a possibility," she said, with a valiant attempt at humor, which he awarded with a genuine chuckle. "I find I'd like to stick to your scenario from last night. Female. She."

"Alright. She it is then." He looked down at her stomach, resisting the urge to speak to the embryo, to tell it about its new assignment. "But it still could be a boy."

"Yes," agreed Brennan. "We wont know until it… _she_… is about 14 weeks."

He leaned over and kissed her lips. "Sounds perfect to me."

She kissed him back, hungering for more of the ecstasy they generated together. But her a wave of nausea reminded her that she would very probably throw up this morning, and any rigorous physical activity might provoke an episode in the middle of everything, which would be hugely unpleasant, so she pulled herself away, resisting. "You smell nice," she said with a little smile.

"Thanks," he grinned. "So what do you want to do today? We have paperwork from yesterday's case we ought to get done sometime."

"Yes, we need to do that. Also I would like to visit Angela and her baby again."

"Okay, sounds good. What else?"

She thought. "I need to schedule an appointment with an O.B."

"Do you have one already? We'll find you a good one," he assured her.

She shook her head. "I have one. She is the leading expert in obstetrics and gynecology. She is quite competent. I'm confident in her abilities."

"Of course you have the leading expert. Why did I expect anything else?" he sighed.

"I wont accept anything but the absolute best in this field for us," she explained, nodding resolutely. "I need to make sure we're in excellent care throughout the whole process."

Booth smiled, knowing that when she meant 'we' she didn't include him. It encouraged him to hear it. There were two of them now. Even when she was alone, she would still have the companionship of their baby. 'We' was perfectly appropriate.

"Well, I'm going to do my part to make sure that happens," he said. "And that includes making sure you get enough to eat. So, whaddya want for breakfast, huh? I make some pretty killer pancakes."

She cringed at the thought, stifling the groan of revulsion threatening to rise. She didn't want to offend him. It was a kind offer. "If I ingest anything, I'm only going to vomit. I'd prefer you didn't even make them for yourself, if you don't mind. The smell is quite unpleasant this time of the morning."

He was surprised. "Oh, wow. Okay, well… what do you think you can hold down? Because you've gotta try, Bones. I don't want to make you angry at me, but I'm looking after my kid, here."

She sighed. "I know, your intentions are good. Perhaps some saltine crackers. Maybe toast. Nothing with dairy, as it only aggravates the nausea. Ginger has been proven very good at calming an unsettled stomach. Maybe we should get some Ginger-ale on our way to the hospital to visit Ange."

"Okay, ginger products it is. We'll get you some. In the meantime," he rolled out of bed, pulling on his pajama pants. "I'll put some bread in the toaster."

She sat up, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. "Booth?"

He turned around on his way out of the room. "Yeah."

"Thank you," she said quietly.

"For what? For breakfast? Come on, it's nothing. You're basically not evening eating anything anyway."

She smiled, looking down at her lap. "For breakfast, for last night, for being happy and understanding about all this."

He softened, moving back over to her. He took her hands and pulled her to her feet. "Come on, Bones. It's me. How else could I possibly react?" he said affectionately.

"That's what I mean." She leaned up on her toes, giving him a gentle kiss. "Thank you. I already know you're a wonderful father, but I'm grateful that you're going to be _my_ child's father. You're the only one I would want for that role."

She had not actually told him she loved him yet - a confession he was willing to wait for - but this was close enough. He leaned his forehead against hers, his voice low and warm. "You're going to be the best mother ever."

"I don't know how," she admitted. "My memories of my mother are dim, at best. I don't remember her example. Traditionally, women learn by the example of the older women in their society, most often their own mother. My mother left me. I never learned."

"You don't need to, Bones. It's already in there. I've seen it myself– you already know how. And trust me, as soon as you feel that baby move for the first time, you're whole world is going to change – more than it already has. And you know what?"

"What?"

He grinned. "You're going to start talking to it too."

She laughed, pushing him away affectionately. "Her. You mean her."

"Yeah, talking to _her_ too. Right baby?" he leaned over, his face level with her belly. "You hungry? You're making your mother very sick. I'd appreciate it if you stop doing that so you can both eat."

"Oh, go make some toast," she muttered, making her way to the bathroom to shower. She heard him chuckle as he turned and left the room. She watched him go, a soft, peaceful smile slowly unfolding on her face.

Everything was going to be okay.

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><p><em>{Update: Enough people have asked, and I find that I can't stop writing anyway. So hopefully in the next day or so I'll have a couple extra chapters explaining what happens when people finally begin to find out. :D Stay tuned. And please review! And perhaps recommend the story to others, if you liked it enough?}<em>


	6. Chapter 6

_{Alright, sorry it's taken me a bit to get this up. I actually have the next chapter already finished, so hopefully that will be up today too. I'm not going to focus heavily on a case - these scenes are just concerning the character stuff we don't get to see over the summer. Hope you enjoy!}_

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><p>It was a beautiful, sunny day, and the park was crowded. Children ran everywhere, crawling over the playground equipments like frenzied ants. Parents, mostly mothers, watched them absent-mindedly, chatting in little groups, or talking on cell phones. Some of them had babies on their laps, or pushed toddlers in swings, or threw footballs around with older children in the grass. The noise was considerable, but almost all of the sounds were ones of glee and excitement.<p>

Brennan felt utterly out of her element here. Whenever she and Booth came to the park, they skirted the edges, where the coffee carts and park benches afforded more adult recreation. She glanced back at her partner, some distance off, arguing with someone on the phone. His brow was furrowed in consternation, his hand gestures animated and forceful. She smiled to herself. Even though he was too far away for her to hear the conversation, she knew it was about the incompetent new agent he was supposed to be training.

It was a moment she chose to savor, since he always gave her grief for being hard on her interns when _they_ were incompetent.

"Hey Bones, watch!"

She turned to look back at Booth's son, Parker, as he swung higher and higher and, at the apex of his forward swing, leapt into the air. She cringed with fear and dread as he came thudding back to the ground, instantly picturing the possible damage to his skeletal structure.

But he was laughing, having landed successfully on his feet. "Wasn't that _awesome_?"

He was fine, so she let herself relax. She motioned for him to come over, which he did willingly. Despite the crowded nature of the park, she'd managed to find a place on an empty bench to sit and wait while Parker played.

He sat down next to her, sweaty and out of breath. She grinned. "That was pretty impressive. It was a very high jump. Were your scared?"

"Naw, I wasn't scared. It was just cool."

"Yes, very cool." She brushed his sticky hair out of his face. Sometimes he looked so much like Booth. "Do you want something to drink? You've been playing hard, and this heat is probably dehydrating you."

"Sure. I'm thirsty." He jumped up off the bench. "Can we get a soda?"

"Yes, we can." She stood too, signaling to Booth that she and Parker were going to walk down the park a little ways to the a vending cart.

She was glad of the time spent with Parker. They had learned a great appreciation for one another, and he was one of the few children who didn't think she was an alien. Besides, her pregnancy had her feeling a little more maternal these days, and she wanted to foster the best relationship with Parker that she could before breaking the news to him. She still wasn't convinced he was going to like it.

"You're very physically gifted," she praised, glancing down to give him a grin. "I saw how you maneuvered on those monkey-bars. It was very good."

"Thanks!" Parker took her hand. "I'm the fastest one in my class in running, too."

"You inherited your father's natural abilities. That's a very valuable skill." They approached the cart. She bought them both a soda.

"Yeah, I want to be like my dad when I grow up. He's awesome." He took his orange soda gratefully. "Thanks."

Brennan led them over to another bench, this one in the shade. She worried about him overheating. She worried about herself overheating too. She took a small sip of her Sprite. Food was still something of a problem for her in the mornings, though now that she was nearing her second trimester, it wasn't nearly so bad.

"Yes, your dad is pretty awesome," she agreed.

"You're awesome too," he said suddenly, surprising her. "I like it when you come hang out with us, or when you let us come to your pool. Why does my dad always date other people, instead of you?"

She looked at him carefully, wishing she had Booth's ability to read faces well. "Would you like it if your father and I were together?"

"Yeah," he replied. "Because I already like you. And I know he likes you too."

She felt another surge of affection and appreciation for the child, wondering how it was _both_ of the Booth boys could manage to like her when most of the world didn't. They hadn't discussed how they were going to break the news to him yet, but she wished now that she could at least tell him they were together.

"Don't you like him?" Parker continued, oblivious to her inner conflict. "You spend a lot of time together with your work."

"Yes, I do like him." Brennan had always found that candor and honesty went far with Booth's son. He responded better to it, even if the answers weren't what he wanted. "Our work says we're not supposed to date."

"Would you get into trouble if you did?"

"Maybe. I'm not really sure. But what if they let us and we broke up? How could we work together after that?"

"You wouldn't break up," he said confidently. "I wouldn't let you."

She laughed. "Oh, okay. Well then what if we _didn't_ break up? Do you think you'd really want me around forever?"

He grinned, his eyebrows lifting. "You mean if you got married? That would be cool, because then you could help me with my homework, and you could teach me how to be the smartest kid in my class."

"You're already the fastest," she reminded him.

"Yeah, but if I were the smartest _and_ the fastest, then I would be the best!"

She marveled in the simple, but pure reasoning skills of children. At least at his age, there was no shame in openly wanting to be the leader of the pack. "I can help you with your homework whenever you want."

"But if you got married, then you would be around all the time, not just sometimes. Then we could do more fun things."

She paused, considering her next question. Marriage was still not in her plan, but she knew that traditionally, marriage was the natural precursor to another expected event. She wondered if he thought the same thing. So, choosing her words carefully, she asked: "What if we had a baby?"

Now it was _his_ turn to be surprised. Apparently he hadn't considered that. He thought about it for a minute. He glanced at her uncertainly. "Would my dad still love me as much? Even though he has another kid?"

"Of course he would," she replied in an urgent, sincere tone. "Your father will always love you, just the same as he does now. Never any less. You are his son."

"Would _you_? I'm not your kid. If you had a baby, you would love it more than me." He seemed saddened by the thought, but his words were spoken with surprising rationality.

She struggled with how to respond. Truthfully, she didn't know how she would feel. She loved Booth's son, but he was right in the fact that she did not have a child, and she did not know how deeply the bonds of love would run when she finally held her own baby in her arms. She thought of the fetus growing in her womb. In some indefinable way, she already loved it.

But would she love Parker any less?

"No," she decided aloud. "I believe I will always love you too, the same way I do now. In a different way from how your dad loves you, of course, because you aren't my son and you already have a mother. But having a baby won't make me love you less."

He didn't catch the obvious implication in her phrase, didn't realize she let slip the imminence of this possibility. "Well…" he pondered for a moment, shrugging. "Maybe it would be nice to have a brother or sister. Then I could protect them from mean people at school, and play basketball with them after school."

She smiled, not bothering to point out that there would be a huge age difference between him and the baby, and that any play between them wouldn't really happen for a few years. She was just glad he was open to the idea, and that she was able to address his feelings of being replaced before he learned the actual truth.

One thing she was certain about was that her little secret was coming to a good family – at least as far as her father and half-brother went. She would be protected and watched after by two capable alpha-males, even if one was only an alpha among children right now.

Booth came walking over, finally finished with his frustrating conversation. He gave Brennan an exasperated look, shaking his head as he sat down beside her.

"Hey dad!" Parker greeted enthusiastically. "Want some soda?"

"Sure," he replied, taking a swig of the sticky-sweet orange beverage. He smacked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, wincing a little. "Man, kid, that's like drinking candy."

"I know." Parker grinned hugely. "Me and Bones were playing a game!"

"Oh yeah?" He glanced over to her. "What kind of game?"

"A speculative scenario game." She smiled crookedly, lifting her brows and giving Booth a significant look. "Parker has some very strong opinions."

"Yeah." Parker laughed, thinking himself quite mischievous. "It was a what-if game."

"What if. I love that game. What did you talk about?"

Parker looked at Brennan conspiratorially. "Should I tell him?"

She chuckled. "Hmm…well, okay. Yeah, I guess he could know. Maybe if he knows, then it can really happen.

"Okay!" Parker turned to his father excitedly. "We were talking about what if you guys were boyfriend and girlfriend, and what if I were the best in my class, and _then_ what if you got married? And after that we talked about what if you had a baby! Isn't that crazy?"

Booth was surprised. He looked at Bones with mingling suspicion and reproach. She gave him a knowing smile. He understood what it meant. She hadn't actually told Parker the big secret, she'd just directed the conversation to a convenient place. He was impressed. He glanced back at his son, ruffling his hair affectionately.

"Yeah, buddy," he chuckled. "It's crazy."

Parker laughed too, taking a big gulp of his drink. "Maybe someday it will be real."

"Maybe," Brennan agreed.

Her phone buzzed in her pocket, startling her. As she was pulling it out, she heard Booth's phone begin to ring as well. They looked at each other knowingly.

Parker also knew what it meant. He sighed. "Darn."

"I'm sorry," Booth told him with significant regret. "Let's get you back to your mom's house."

"Cam says the remains are already at the lab," Brennan said angrily as she flipped her phone shut. "Why do they do that?"

"Uh-oh. They know how annoyed you get about that." Booth shook his head. "Well, when we get there you can give them a stern talking-to."

"That's exactly what they will get."

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><p><em>{...}<em>

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><p>Back at the lab, after some irritated and strong words from Brennan, the team assembled to look at the pile of gooey, wet, still-fleshy remains on an exam table. Booth didn't think it looked any more repulsive than their usual serving of dead human, but he could see something about it was bothering Brennan more than she wanted to say. She seemed to be resisting getting too close, and when he looked very closely, he could see that she was growing quite pale.<p>

Daisy was the assisting squintern today, and she was as chipper and animated as always. She was eager to do much of it herself, and to the surprise of Hodgins and Cam, Brennan seemed unusually willing to let her.

And until Daisy came across something she didn't recognize, things were going just fine.

She asked Brennan to take a closer look. Brennan obliged, leaning in quite close to the slippery, slimy, salty mess to peer at a peculiarity on a revealed femur.

And suddenly, her head was swimming, her knees buckling, her stomach heaving. She found herself reeling backwards, away from the sea-soaked remains whose repugnant odor overwhelmed her like a noxious cloud. She couldn't think, couldn't stop the sudden surging of bile up her throat. Panic exploded inside her as she realized she was not going to be able to stop the eruption.

But then there was a strong arm around her waist, wheeling her around, pivoting her away and bringing a trash can up to meet her. Just in time. She was sick. So _very_ sick. And that strong, sturdy arm held her up, keeping her from falling in to her own wretchedness.

Her nausea had been improving in the last week, and she'd been bolder about eating large breakfasts. Now that boldness came to visit her with a vengeance.

Again and again it came in waves, gripping her in that awful vice of pain and disgust and misery and suffocation. How she hated throwing up. It bordered on traumatic every time.

Finally all she was left with were empty heaves, and she managed to swallow the pool of acid hanging on the back of her tongue. She trembled against her supporter, wiping her mouth with a shaky, unsteady hand.

"You okay, Bones?" he asked quietly.

She nodded, barely able to choke out a brief, "I'm okay." She wasn't even entirely sure if it was true, but she felt certain that she was _not_ okay yet.

"Is she sick?" she heard Cam ask Booth in quiet astonishment.

It only added to her misery that everyone had witnessed her humiliation. She had been so good at keeping it together around them.

But there was no going back after that awful show. They'd all seen it. She couldn't pretend it hadn't happened. And quite frankly, she didn't feel well enough to try.

"She's fine," Booth told them, gently standing her upright again, since she hadn't done so yet herself. "Right, Bones?"

"I'm fine," she echoed in a small voice.

Hodgins shook his head, his shockingly blue eyes wide in disbelief. "Doctor B, no offense, but you're not fine. In all the years I've worked for you, I have _never_ seen you throw up because of remains."

Which is precisely why all of them stood there so shocked. Even Daisy, who had only been there for three years, could not believe what had just transpired. She was stunned into speechlessness.

Brennan did not know how to respond. She wasn't ready to tell them the real reason yet, but she didn't have a ready excuse.

Fortunately, Booth did. He glanced at her, trying to stress the importance that she play along. "Oh no, Bones, you didn't get food from that shady Moroccan joint on the corner, did you?"

She swallowed, the waves of smell rolling off the body continuing to nauseate her. She didn't have anything left to toss, but that didn't stop her body from wanting to attempt it. Working hard to concentrate on the lie he was trying to build, she said meekly, "My doorman said it was good. I now believe he was quite wrong about that."

"Great. That's what you get for believing your _doorman_ over your partner," he grumbled. "No wonder you can't keep it down, this morning. That stuff wages war on even the most iron of stomachs."

"If you have food poisoning, you wont be better in a couple of minutes," Cam said very seriously. She obviously bought the lie without a problem. "You might need to take the day off. Go home, get some rest."

"No," she protested, wishing her body didn't feel so weakened so it could more accurately reflect the health of her intellect and her pride. "I'll be _fine_."

"You really don't look good. You're pretty pale," Hodgins told her honestly. "It really might be better for you to lie down."

She shook her head, trying to pull away from Booth. "No, we need to work on the case. I'm alright now. Everyone can relax."

Daisy suddenly stepped forward, putting herself between Brennan and the remains. She cringed against the death-glare she knew she'd receive. "I'm sorry, Doctor Brennan, but I can't let you do that. What if you throw up again and this time Agent Booth doesn't get to you in time? You could compromise all the evidence."

Brennan scowled at her in fierce anger, but the voice of logic in her head secretly praised Daisy for being bold in her defense. She knew Daisy was right, of course, even if she didn't want to admit it.

Booth still had a firm grip on her. He pulled her back, away from the squintern. "Look, at least go rest until they're all done with the stinky, fleshy part."

"Yeah," Cam agreed hastily. "You'll probably be fine once we can let Daisy clean the bones. That way you don't have to give up the whole day – just give us a couple of hours to do our thing."

Brennan still tried to resist – tried to think of some protest. But her body was begging to be led away from the wretched smell, and she was too drained to put up much of a fight. So finally she sighed and relented. "I'll go find some medication and rest briefly in my office. The moment the bones have been cleaned, I want to be notified."

"This isn't their first rodeo, Bones. They know to come get you." Booth kept a hand on her elbow, putting the other on the small of her back. "Come on, I don't want to be up here with that stinkbomb either."

She let him steer her down the platform, feeling the still-amazed stares of the others on her back. They made her angry, their stares. Angry and embarrassed. She wished they would just get back to work. Other people got sick over the dead bodies, so it wasn't so far out of the realm of possibilities – was it? But she knew the answer. Those people were a lesser kind of people. They were the outsiders coming in, the people who didn't deal with death on a daily basis, they were soft where one needed to be hard and objective. Everyone here at the lab was very good at that. Even Angela and Booth, who belonged to a more normal class of person than the rest of them- even they had both grown used to the awful things they saw here.

And she was the most resilient one of them all. Hodgins came in a close second, but it was Brennan who was the original leader, and still was in many respects. She had seen and been up close to countless of terrible remains, but she'd never had that reaction.

This baby was already changing everything, now it was interfering with her work. And she couldn't help herself – she was a little angry. She was already ten weeks in her pregnancy, shouldn't this part almost be over? It had been a while since she'd thrown up at work. All the times before she'd managed to hold herself together until an opportunity arose for her to go to the bathroom, alone. Nobody knew what she really went in there to do. Lately her nausea had been improving. A steady diet of Garbanzo beans and other foods known to help with that had kept her feeling remarkably well these last few weeks.

But they didn't help her today. If she were to think about it logically, there probably wasn't anything she could have taken that would've helped. The smell of the water-logged remains was the perfect trigger. But at the moment, logic gave way to frustration.

Truthfully, she was tired of the symptoms of this stage in her pregnancy. She was tired of feeling so run down all the time. Being pregnant meant her temperature was higher than normal, so it was like trying to function day after day with a low-grade fever. It left her weary and exhausted. She was tired of trying to find clever ways to fight of the nausea. And already she was having to sneak away for constant bathroom breaks, though she knew this symptom would only get worse as the baby began to grow and press against her bladder.

Though irrational, she sometimes begrudged her physical state for disrupting her normal work routine. The only symptom she hadn't tired of was the increased libido due to the doubled amounts of blood running through her system. With Booth, she didn't really need any extra help to be in the mood, but the increased blood flow meant she was practically insatiable. She suspected he enjoyed this particular symptom as well. But she was definitely _not_ in the mood now, and her wounded pride kept her from thinking of any more good symptoms of her pregnancy.

"Do you think they suspected anything?" she asked very softly as he practically pushed her down the hall.

"Naw. I think they bought the food poisoning crap."

"So our secret is still safe?"

"Yeah. She's still safe."

It was kind of astonishing that for seven weeks she and Booth and managed to keep up this careful disguise. Then again, no one would suspect they were together by the way they acted. When they were around others, they naturally fell into their old routines and habits, acting just like they always had for the past six years.

During they day, they were Booth and Bones, solving murders, bickering over little things, lots of electric tension between them. The only difference during the day was that Booth was even more protective of her than usual, and their silent glances were more prolonged and meaningful. At night, however, they were whatever half-whispered petname was dragged from quivering, breathless lips. They were soft murmurs in the dark, quiet conversations about a life shared – however impossible it was going to be.

No, there really wasn't a way anyone could have guessed that she and Booth were even together, much less that she was carrying a child by him.

The physical changes of her pregnancy were the toughest part of adapt to. Her stomach was still relatively smooth and unnoticeable, so only those paying very close attention would be able to piece together her symptoms. Her exhaustion she kept well hidden until she got home, when Booth would let her collapse on the couch or on the bed and not lift a finger the rest of the night.

Sometimes she felt especially irritable from her fluctuating hormones, but the only ones who had to suffer through that were the squinterns. It had a surprisingly positive effect, since her demands and criticisms had only made them more eager to please, and thus made them increase their level of performance.

The only one who could possibly have guessed might have been Angela, but she'd been on maternity leave for six weeks. She had only just come back. Even though Brennan had gone to visit her at home every single day since Michael's birth, those brief couple hours were not enough to clue Angela in to what was happening.

Now that she was back, they would have to be even more vigilant. Angela was very good at decoding glances and body language. Sometimes she was almost clairvoyant in how well she knew Brennan.

Thankfully, Angela wasn't out there with all that just happened. She was the only one who knew Booth and Brennan were together, and therefore the only person with the edge pieces to the puzzle. She alone would have had reason to be suspicious.

Brennan wanted to tell Angela – had wanted to for some time. For some irrational reason, however, she was still unable. If people didn't know, if it just stayed between herself and Booth, it felt safer some how. As if she were protecting her baby. But of course that was ridiculous, and they were all going to find out eventually.

They reached her office. Brennan twisted out of Booth's grip and went to her dusk, pulling open drawers and rummaging for her toothbrush.

Booth glanced behind them, shutting her office door and closing the blinds.

"What are you doing?" she protested. "They're going to think we're doing something inappropriate in here."

"No, they wont, Bones. They think you came in here to lay down – remember?" He joined her at the desk. He seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, and exactly where she'd hidden it, because he found her toothbrush and bottle of ginger pills in ten seconds flat.

He leaned over, ignoring Brennan's glare while he addressed the baby in a serious voice. "I don't like it when you make your mother so sick, little one."

"She can't here you," she reminded him shortly, snatching the items out of his hands.

"She knows what I mean," He flopped down in her desk chair.

"Oh, well if that's true would you kindly tell her to stop making me so sensitive to smells so I can get back to work?" There was a little more bite and sarcasm in her tone than she usually liked to use with him. That kind of attitude was usually reserved for useless interns.

She shook her head apologetically, disappearing into the bathroom just off her office, glad of the privacy it afforded.

Despite the problems they caused, she had to admit, she'd rather have all the awful symptoms than have none of them. Her doctor had warned her that quite often, women who experienced none of the symptoms – particularly nausea – were more likely to miscarry. Not all women, of course, but many. That bit of information spooked her. It _almost_ made her glad every time she woke up feeling incapacitated by nausea.

Fortunately, according to the doctor, everything was progressing remarkably well. She'd heard her baby's heartbeat for the first time a week ago. It was a surreal moment. It was the physical, auditory proof that she was not alone in her own skin. She could still hear it, even a week later. It was a strong, healthy beat, and Brennan didn't know if she'd ever heard anything so incredible or beautiful.

Booth had been there too. He insisted on coming with her every time. He wanted to be involved in every aspect, especially because he didn't get to with Parker. Sometimes, she was glad of his company. Sometimes, he annoyed her. That time, however, he behaved himself quite well. They'd both become a tad emotional when they heard that quick, thunderous cadence proving their child's existence.

Her baby was healthy. She was healthy. Her relationship with the baby's father was healthy. Everything was going so well. Sometimes she got nervous, because the pattern of her life had taught her that when everything was going wonderfully, something would soon go wrong.

After rigorous scrubbing her teeth and tongue, trying to get rid of the taste of acid hanging in the back of her throat, and after swallowing two organic ginger pills, she felt a little bit better.

She emerged from the bathroom, frowning when she saw Booth had his feet propped up on her desk. He could do that to his desk, in _his_ office, but not to hers.

"So you want to tell me why, Bones?" he asked, apparently unconcerned with her look of displeasure.

She came over to him, pushing his feet off onto the floor. "You want to know why I got sick? I thought I told you why. Seven weeks ago."

"No, I know _that_ why. I mean why wont you just take the day off? Why do you have to be stubborn about staying?"

"I'm not going to let this physical weakness hamper my ability to catch killers, Booth."

He sighed. "It's not a physical weakness, Bones. It's a baby. And while I understand that, the wellbeing of both of you has to come before catching killers. I don't know why you're resisting me on this."

She looked at him probingly for a moment, wondering how he would react if the roles were reversed and she were the one telling him to go home. He would probably be angry too. Her gaze eventually dropped, her voice growing softer. "Sometimes you treat me as if I'm made of glass. I'm not so fragile, Booth. And according to the doctor we're both quite healthy. You don't have to be so worried."

He stood up, coming around the other side of the desk and winding his arms around her waist. "Yeah, but here's the thing. I _do_ worry. Better to treat you like glass now than find out later you really are breakable. So please, for me, and for the baby, go home and take the day off? Rest. Maybe watch one of those documentaries you like so much?"

She shook her head. "Me taking the rest of the day off will not make me feel better. You said it yourself, it's not an illness, it's a baby. No amount of lounging around unproductively will change that. I'll feel the same regardless of what I do today."

"Not being around a stinky sea-body will definitely help," he objected.

"It's not happening." Her body stiffened in his arms as she set her jaw and lifted her brows in that familiar expression she always wore when she was about to be difficult.

He smiled that crooked smile she loved so much, pulling her into him. His head lowered as he kissed her neck, once, twice, and a third down on her collarbone.

Her body tingled, her libido awakened. She cleared her throat. "Wha-what are you doing?"

"I just wanted to see," he murmured, letting the deep vibrations of his voice rumble against her, "if I could… _persuade_ you to take the day off. I could take a long lunch, you know, and join you for a few hours." He drew his lips from her ear to the corner of her mouth. "Just saying."

With enormous effort, and against the wishes of her yearning body, she pulled her head away – and would have stepped back completely if not for his firm hold on her. "I find your attempted coercion by sexual advances a little insulting." But she smiled in spite of herself. "Yet, I admit, also quite pleasant. But they will not dissuade me. I'm staying here."

He groaned, letting go of her and flopping backwards onto her couch. "Good grief, Bones. Why is this such an impossible concept. It's one day! You've taken days off before. I don't get it."

"Because I need it." She sat down next to him, releasing a soft slow expulsion of air. "Please, listen to my explanation with the empathy you're so good at."

He sighed, turning his body to face her. "Okay. I'm listening."

She bobbed her chin once, looking down at her hands. "I toyed with the idea of having a baby once – but that was my choice, a decision made on my terms. I thought, at the time, that I was prepared. It was rational. But this... This is not rational. I was not prepared for this. It wasn't a choice. And it's okay – I have to adapt. But I've had to adapt to _so much_ change. I need to cling to the one constant I still have. My work is my oldest passion, and since I was an undergrad it's all I've known. It's even in my very identity. The moniker you have given me proves that. When I do take days off, it's well in advance. Everything in my life is changing, but this _can't_ change. Do you understand?"

"I get it, Bones," he said quietly, taking her hand. "You've been through a lot this year. But you know, later down the road, when you're close to the end, you're going to have to take is easy. You can't push yourself so hard. When the baby comes, you're going to have to take days off anyway. I know you don't want it to, but eventually this _is_ going to affect your work."

"I know." Her voice was small. "But not yet."

He nodded, sighing again. This was the girl who told him that as a scientist, she couldn't change. Well now her whole world had been turned upside down, and not just for three days. She was not only in a committed relationship, with _him_ no less, but now she was expecting a surprise baby. It was so much to adjust to. And yes, she was adapting remarkably well – better than he ever imagined. But who could blame her for being so upset when all the change began spilling over, threatening the one thing still left unchanged?

"I'm sorry for doing this to you," he murmured, giving her hand a little squeeze.

She looked at him quickly, her expression surprised and a little wounded. "No, no. Booth, you don't have to be sorry. You didn't do this to me!"

"Okay, Bones, I'm pretty sure you didn't get this way on your own."

"But that doesn't mean it's your fault. I was not taking any preventative medication. It's my fault – but that doesn't matter either. You're the one who said this was a great thing. _I'm_ not sorry. Sometimes I find I am quite discouraged, but never to the point of regret. When I get very frustrated, it helps if I think about the development happening that week. Do – do you want to hear about the fetus?"

She sounded so eager, and so desperately maternal, that he had to grin a little. "Sure I do. Tell me about her."

She smiled too, her face lighting up. "Well, she's no longer an embryo. She is now officially a fetus. Did you know fetus literally means 'little one'? You call her that all the time, and now it's accurate. Anyway, her spinal-cord has finally fused with the column, meaning that 'tail' you think is so strange is gone."

"She's not an alien-lizard baby anymore?" he chuckled.

"No, she now resembles a human baby, including her face. She has eyelids, and ears are beginning to form. She still can't hear you," she added hastily. "And she now has fingers and toes and can make rudimentary grasping movements. Her skeleton is beginning to grow now, but her bones will still be quite soft for a while. She is starting to swallow and move – though these movements are so small I cannot perceive them yet. Next month, we'll be ale to determine her sex for certain. And hopefully by then I will begin to feel her moving."

"That's amazing," he said softly, looking at her in that adoring kind of way that was all his own. "All that is going on inside you, right now. You're making our baby."

Her cheeks warmed in pleasure under his stare. Sometimes she was amazed that he could be so affectionate without doing anything. Even though it wasn't physically measurable, she could sometimes just _feel_ him silently worshipping her. She wished she knew how to do that too, so that she could express to him how deeply she cared, without having to search for the inadequate and uncomfortable words.

Impulsively, she leaned over, kissing his cheek. "So you're not going to make me leave?"

He caught her before she could lean away again, kissing her back – this time not on the cheek. "Would I be able to, even if I tried?"

"No," she laughed.

"That's what I thought."

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><p><em>{Okay so mostly fluff, but the next chapter will deal with new-mommy Angela, and what happens when the puzzle pieces finally fit together. I'll have that up in a jiffy! R&amp;R in the meantime?}<em>


	7. Chapter 7

_{Okie dokie, here it is. It's a little sad when I see 300+ people have read the chapter in the last couple hours, but only two have left a review. I'm not a glutton for praise or criticism, I just want to know what you guys think so far. If you could review, I'd be really grateful. But whether you do or not, I'm still going to be posting chapters, so I guess it doesn't matter. So anyway. On to the chapter.}_

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><p>An hour later, Brennan was startled to find herself waking up. She hadn't even realized at what point she'd fallen asleep. One minute she was talking to Booth, and the next she was coming back into consciousness, curled up on the couch, alone in her office. Where had he gone? And how had he convinced her to take a nap?<p>

She sat up, disoriented. It was only an hour, but it had been a deep sleep. It almost felt like she'd lost an entire day. She rubbed her eyes, which still felt sandy and sleepy. Happily, her nausea seemed to have abated a bit. She saw a note on her coffee table, and picked it up.

_You slept. I win._

_ Out with Pops. Call me when you're back on the case._

She rolled her eyes, a soft breath expelling in exasperation. Yes, somehow he'd won. Apparently her exhaustion had gotten the better of her after all.

After checking her hair and makeup in the bathroom, she opened the blinds to her office and stepped outside. All was quiet in the lab. The techs were roaming around, doing their thing. She saw Hodgins on the platform, peering at something under a microscope. Neither Cam nor Daisy was anywhere to be seen.

Hodgins looked up to write down some notes, and spotted her standing outside her office. "Hey Doctor B. Feel any better?"

"Yes, I feel fine." She looked around, frowning. "Where are the remains?"

"Daisy took them to clean the bones. She'll be a little while still. You have probably a good forty-five minutes before you can have them."

"What are you doing?"

"Examining the particulates pulled from beneath the fingernails. Cam thinks it's murder. Daisy wasn't willing to confirm until you looked at the bones."

Brennan nodded appreciatively. Daisy was so difficult to tolerate, but sometimes Brennan was grateful for her oddities.

Hodgins looked at her closely, carefully asking, "Did you get some sleep?"

She shrugged, her interest clearly lying elsewhere. "Yes, I slept quite well. Is Angela in her office?"

"Yep. She's working on reconstructing a piece of paper found jammed down the victim's throat."

"Thank you." She moved off, leaving him to his work.

Angela had been absent from the scene on the platform this morning, thankfully, but now Brennan sought the companionship of her friend. She wouldn't be needed for a little while anyway, so it was a perfect opportunity to go find her.

She found Angela in her office, just as Hodgins said. Only she was not working on the piece of paper. Her computer was running an algorithm, but Angela herself was waiting for it to finish by playing with her young son.

Brennan had given Angela permission to bring her little seven-week old baby in to work with her, because he was so young, because Angela didn't want to leave him with a nanny, because Angela was so needed back at the lab, and mostly because Brennan wanted them _both_ there.

Cam had at first been annoyed and exasperated, because _she_ was supposed to be the one to make those decisions, not Brennan. But eventually she relented as well, with the stipulation that Michael did not become such a distraction that Angela wasn't as productive.

So far it had worked out just fine. Michael was a pretty good baby. He was content to sit in his carrier most of the time, sleeping or observing the world around him. A good portion of Angela's time was spent waiting for her computer to finish some task or another before she could continue anyway, so she was able to divide her time quite well.

Brennan was glad of their presence.

Angela looked up when she saw Brennan come in, her smile growing huge. "Hey, Sweetie! How are you feeling?"

Brennan halted in her step, blinking in surprise. What did Angela know? "I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Hodgins told me you threw up. What happened there, huh? You never throw up."

Oh. She silently cursed Hodgins in her head, begrudging him for being so communicative with his wife. She was hoping there would be at least one person who didn't know about her humiliation. "I ate bad food last night. I shouldn't have. Booth told me not to. I should have listened to him."

Angela grinned, shaking her head and looking back at her baby. "Hodgins told me about that part too. It's just still weird. You never throw up."

"You already said that." Brennan came and sat down beside the both of them. "Why didn't you respond when the body was brought in?"

"Sorry," she apologized quickly. "Michael was fussing so much, and I'm not usually much help in the very beginning anyway."

"That's not always true." She looked at her friend, and then at the baby. Her expression softened. "But feeding your son is an acceptable excuse."

"Thanks. This kid eats like a horse. He's definitely Hodgin's son, alright." She dipped her face to Michael's level, cooing in a small voice. "Aren't you, my little stud-muffin?"

Michael cooed back, his eyes lighting up. He waved his fists at his mother.

"Can I hold him, Ange?" Brennan asked quietly.

"Of course you can. I need to check on the computer's progress anyway. He got a few big burps out and already spit up once, so you shouldn't have a problem, but here's his burp-cloth just in case." She lifted the small boy into her friend's lap, draping the cloth over her arm.

Brennan received the infant gratefully. She grinned, pulling Michael up for a kiss on his fluffy cheek. "Hi, tiny man," she greeted affectionately.

Michael smiled, first a small, reluctant grin, then it became so large it made his eyes squint shut and his little body spasm in jerky movements.

Brennan laughed. "He's becoming quite interactive, isn't he?"

"Oh man, tell me about it. I'm going nuts. All I want to do is hold him and make faces at him because he's getting so incredibly cute. It's becoming a problem, actually." Angela stood and went to her computer, picking up the remote tablet, clicking away as her computer finished it's task.

Brennan cupped her hands behind his lead, letting him lay back on her forearms. She made soft clicking sounds with her tongue, drawing his attention back to her. He waved his hands, cooing in response.

"Has he laughed yet?"

"No, not yet. Almost. He keeps doing this quasi-giggle thing that definitely makes _me_ laugh, and Hodgins has gotten him pretty close a couple times, but no real laughs yet."

"Statistically, babies don't really laugh until sometime around their 90th day," Brennan explained, giving Michael another grin. "Though similar sounds may be heard sooner."

Angela glanced up from her computer with an appreciative look that Brennan did not see. She wanted to ask more about Brennan's little episode this morning – and wanted to ask if she'd really been sleeping for the last hour, or if Booth had been there with her. But she knew it was better to let her friend have this conversation for a minute before trying to pry any explanation out of her.

It would have been useless anyway. Brennan was transfixed. She was completely transported to another world, as she always was when she held Michael. Sometimes Angela was amazed. She knew Brennan had a soft interior, and she knew that she was better with kids than most people expected, but even she did not predict how strongly the anthropologist would bond with the baby. Brennan had been there every single day since the birth, eager to help and learn and experience.

Angela thought that perhaps her friend was trying to live vicariously through them – which was fine with her. She loved the help and the companionship, but mostly she just loved seeing the two interact. Brennan seemed to genuinely love Michael, and Angela trusted her completely with him.

"You're neck is getting quite strong," she praised softly.

The baby caught hold of a lock of her hair, his fist closing automatically in a fierce vice. He wriggled in surprise at the sensation of the texture.

"I'm also impressed by your rudimentary motor skills," she laughed, prying his fingers apart. She lifted him up, blowing a raspberry into the folds of his neck.

He squealed in a sort of vocal gurgling that was reminiscent of a giggle. His mouth opened wide as he tried to eat her face.

She snuggled him close, delighted with the reaction. "I can't wait to interact with my baby like this," she murmured gently to him.

"Oh?" said Angela, turning away from her computer in sudden curiosity and surprise. "_Your_ baby, huh? Now that's a very loaded thing to say. You and Booth are that serious? Marriage, babies, the works?"

Brennan glanced up quickly, embarrassed that she'd been so focused on Michael, she completely forgotten Angela's presence. "Oh…um…no. You know how I feel about marriage."

For a second, Angela didn't respond. She didn't have any words at the ready, and so she could only stare uncomprehendingly. Then, slowly, deliberately, she reasoned out loud. "Yes…and I also know how you feel about babies. Well, at least how you _felt_ about having a baby a couple years ago. I know how you feel about my baby. And I know you've been acting strange lately – telling me you have something important to talk to me about, then chickening out and abruptly changing the conversation instead. _And_ you threw up because of a dead body this morning, which you never do…"

Had it not involved Brennan's carefully guarded secret, she might have been mightily impressed by Angela's process of putting the pieces together. As it were, a trace of color warmed her cheeks and she cast her gaze down, slipping her thumb into Michael's tiny grasp. An unconscious smile tipped the corner of her mouth.

It was true, she had been trying to tell Angela for quite some time. She desperately wanted her friend to know. But every time she tried to talk about it, she would find herself slipping into alternate conversations and never actually getting down to the confession. Sometimes she almost forgot Angela didn't already know, she'd tried to tell her so many times.

Angela's eyes widened and her jaw fell a little slack as she realized what the lack of response implied. "What?" she gasped. "You better say something, or I'm definitely going to jump to a really big conclusion here…"

Brennan glanced up at her, her smile growing a little. "Make the intuitive leap, Angela. Say what you're thinking."

"Oh…my…g-."

"Keep your voice down," she interrupted quickly, as Angela's voice was thunderous in her astonishment. "I meant speak it in a moderately quiet tone of voice, not shout it for the whole lab to hear."

"Brennan!" Angela was on the couch in a flash – her work abandoned. She sat down by her best friend, putting a hand on her arm. "Are you not saying what I think you're not saying?"

"Good grief, Angela, I don't even know what that means. Just say it!"

"Are you…?" She shook her head, unable to speak the words aloud. "Are you…?" she laughed incredulously, at herself, at the situation, at the impossibility of what she was about to say. "Are you _pregnant_?"

"Yes." Brennan laughed too, very quietly. She drew a soft, unsteady breath. The air expanded her lungs, and with it she felt her hidden knowledge expanding – outward and outward, pushing her to the edge of an emotional precipice. Her secret was out! It was no longer between just herself and Booth anymore. Someone else knew. She felt anxious, as if she'd lost one tiny element of control in the matter. And yet part of her felt relieved. Finally, she didn't have to work so hard to keep it hidden around her friend.

Angela seemed to suck all the air out of the room in one small gasp. She sat stone still for one eternal moment, and then suddenly threw her arms around Brennan's shoulders, careful not to crush her own baby, and hugged her hard. "Are you kidding?" she half-laughed, half-cried.

"Hush," Brennan warned her again amidst her huge grin. "Angela, keep it down. We haven't told anyone yet."

"We!" Angela suddenly remembered that there was a father in this situation. "The father _is_ who I think he is, right?"

"Of course. You're the only one who knows we are sexually active. Did you expect me to have slept with someone else after the first time with him?"

"I just needed to be clear, that's all. My mind is exploding."

"That must be extremely unpleasant," Brennan said seriously, even though it was quite clear that Angela's brain was not, in fact, exploding. She looked down at Michael, who watched them with clear, innocent eyes.

"I don't believe what I'm hearing," Angela said breathlessly. "How long have you known?"

"Seven weeks. The fetus is ten weeks along. I found out three days before you went into labor."

"What?" she cried. "And you didn't tell me?"

Brennan looked at her apologetically. "I couldn't, Ange. I didn't tell anyone at first because I could barely process the information myself."

"But you said 'we'. So Booth knows?"

"He knows."

Angela expelled a puff of exasperated air. "Come on, Bren, give me a little more than that. I mean – what was his reaction when you told him?"

She smiled softly, brushing her fingers across the top of Michael's fuzzy head. His hair was becoming quite curly. True Hodgins hair. She glanced up at Angela, eyes clear and shining. "He was ecstatic, Angela. I've never seen him be so happy about anything."

Angela smiled, happiness for her friend threatening to burst every fiber of her being. "Oh, Sweetie, this is just… hah! This is just unbelievable!"

"Yes, I know."

"I get why you didn't tell me before I had Michael, but it's been seven weeks! Why did you hang on to this info for so long?"

"I wanted to tell you." Brennan shifted a little, clinging to Michael a little tighter. "Every time I came to visit you, I almost told you. I don't know why I couldn't. I find I'm overly protective of this information."

"Well, yeah, Sweetie." Angela grinned, her face still amazed. "Most of us are at first."

"But you told me before you even told Hodgins. I didn't reciprocate. Obviously you should have been the first to know. I should be more comfortable talking about things like this."

"No, Brennan. You shouldn't have told me first. That wouldn't have been you. Look, it's okay that you didn't tell me before now. And it's definitely okay that you told Booth first. It's better that way. My situation was different. I could just be happy about my pregnancy – I'm married to a wonderful guy, secure in our relationship. A baby was the next step, and we both knew it would happen sooner or later. I was too excited to wait to tell you, too excited to wait until Hodgins knew first. But with you…"

"I was never meant to have baby," she acknowledged understandingly. "The information holds more weight."

Angela sighed. "No, it's not that you weren't meant to have a baby – it's that you never expected to have one. Well, you entertained the notion once, but it didn't get far. It wasn't in your life plan. This _was_ an accident, right? I assume you and Booth wouldn't actually try to have a baby so early in your official relationship?"

"It was an accident," Brennan confirmed. "Conception happened the first time."

Angela whistled, startling her now-sleepy baby. He jerked awake in Brennan's arms, looking around wildly. "Sorry, darling." She stroked his head, glancing back at her friend. "The first time? Wow. That doesn't give you much time to just be a couple."

"No, it doesn't."

"But then again, maybe this is exactly the push you need to force you two to actually stay together. Besides, you've basically been a couple the last six years. It's not like you don't know each other."

Brennan watched Michael relax again, frowning a little. "Implying that we wouldn't stay together if we didn't have a child permanently fixing us in each other's lives?"

"Don't do that. That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I'm sorry. I just get nervous sometimes. Booth and I… we are opposites in every way. I am amazed we are even as compatible as we are, I don't understand how on earth we can raise a child together. We haven't even discussed parenting yet."

Angela's brow lifted knowingly, realizing that there were some potentially significant conflicts in their future about how they were going to raise their baby. "Oh. Yikes. I didn't even think about that. You two are just so great together, you know?"

"Yes, being in a relationship with Booth has been surprisingly satisfying. At this point I don't see an end in our immediate future. But… what if he wants to raise our child to be religious?" Her nose wrinkled, everything inside her rejected the notion of supporting such superstitions, and allowing her own offspring to believe in them.

Angela smiled a little. "Is that the worst thing in the world, Bren? Is that a breaking point for you? It doesn't have to be the issue that ends your relationship if you don't want it to be. Look at the kid he already has. He's done a pretty good job so far. You can teach your child too – don't teach him to question his father, but teach him to question what he himself wants to believe. And then whatever it is, you have to support him."

"Her," Brennan corrected softly. "We decided to refer to the fetus as female until we know for certain. And Booth says we have to lie to her about idiotic traditions like Santa Clause."

"Again, I would say, where's the harm? My advice – which probably isn't worth much, considering this is my first time on the parenthood ride too and my kid is only seven weeks old – is to pick your battles. There are things you should put your foot down on, but maybe others you should just let Booth have. You guys will be fine. You'll figure it out."

Brennan looked at her friend earnestly, wishing so much she could believe as optimistically as Angela could. What she was saying sounded reasonable. She was probably right. Brennan couldn't have her way in every condition. He was far too stubborn for that. And he couldn't have his way all the time either. She could put up a much fiercer fight. Physically, the baby forming inside her was an equal-parts composite of her and him, and that would have to be how their parenting was too. Equal parts her, equal parts him.

"You should study Darwin," Angela said suddenly, sitting back against the couch.

Brennan was surprised by this comment. "I have, Angela, quite extensively. I am the foremost forensic anthropologist in the world. I think I know a little something about evolution."

"I don't mean his theory, Sweetie, I mean the man. More specifically, you should read about Darwin and his wife, Emma. The scientist and the believer."

A long time ago, when she was delving deep into research about Charles Darwin, Brennan _had_ come across the story of his marriage. At the time, she'd pitied him for marrying someone who clung to such irrational beliefs, but she'd commended Emma for being supportive of her husband's theories, even though they flew in the face of everything she believed. At the time, the story held only mild, passing interest for her.

Now, given her circumstances, maybe Angela's suggestion was a good one.

"They were opposites in every single way too," Angela continued. "He was neat and tidy, she was messy and disorganized. He was rational and inquisitive, she was tender-hearted and creative. When their favorite child, their daughter Annie died, their differences in belief only united them further. He did not try to convince her that she was gone forever, and she did not try to convince him that she awaited them in heaven somewhere. Their marriage was strong to the very last. It's a really beautiful story. Seriously, Bren, you should look it up."

"It sounds very relevant to my situation. I will," promised Brennan fervently. She would like to cling to the hope that maybe it could all work out after all. Things were so genuinely happy between them, she desperately wanted them to last the thirty-or-forty-or-fifty years that Booth once talked about.

Angela's face illuminated again as the incredible fact that her friend was _pregnant_ settled back in. "I'm so happy for you, Sweetie. Motherhood is the most incredible experience. Exhausting, yes – sleep is a word I _used_ to know – but totally worth it. I'm so excited."

"Our children are going to be less than a year apart," Brennan said with a small smile. "When they are old enough to interact with each other, I hope they will be as close as we are."

"Or closer," Angela laughed. "If yours is a girl."

A protective surge caused Brennan to reject the implication, but she bit her tongue and simply laughed the notion away. "That's farther than I'm comfortable speculating."

Angela leaned down, kissing her young son on the top of his head. "Hear that, Michael? You're getting a friend. Right here," she patted Brennan's smooth abdomen. A wave of sisterly affection compelled her to once again wrap her arms around her friend in a hug, resting her head on her shoulder. "I'm so happy for you."

Brennan could only tolerate unsolicited physical contact from two people, and one of them was Angela. She didn't mind the touch to her stomach, and the embrace made her feel warm and peaceful. "I'm happy too," she sighed contentedly. And it was true. She didn't have to worry about keeping anything from Angela anymore. She knew. And somehow, that made it all a tad less terrifying.

* * *

><p><em>{...}<em>

* * *

><p>Booth and Hank rode in a depressed silence as they drove back toward the Assisted Living home. Booth focused on the road, trying not to imagine life without his grandfather in it. Hank stared out the window, trying to think of ways to make himself stay young.<p>

They hadn't gotten good news at the doctor's office. Hank's body was betraying him. His blood pressure was up again, and this time it wasn't coming back down. It meant more pills and an even stricter diet. The medication he would have to take for it could react with blood-thinners, so he'd have to be monitored very closely from now on. Technically it wasn't the end of the world, it didn't mean he was on his way out, but it made them both think twice about how much time there really was left.

Booth knew his grandfather would not want to talk about it. Quite frankly, neither did he. It wouldn't change anything or make either of them feel better. He wanted to lighten the mood before they got back to Willow River. Their parting would be abrupt and detached if they arrived in this mindset. Hank would be glad to go back inside where nobody knew the bad news yet.

"You know, Pops, Bones keeps asking about you," Booth said after a while, trying to shift the general mood. "She wants to come by and visit sometime."

"I don't need her to come see me there. I'd rather go out to see her." Hank turned to look at Booth, frowning.

Booth grinned a little. His body may be declining, but Hank's pride was strong as ever. "Alright. We'll find a time for the three of us to go to dinner."

"Can we do it soon? I never get to see her," complained Hank. "You never bring her over."

"You just said you didn't want her to come see you there!"

"Well, I don't. But until I said it, you didn't know it. So why haven't you brought her?"

Booth sighed. "Because, Pops, she's kind of busy with work." Truthfully, he hadn't really brought her around his grandfather since before Hannah. He wasn't entirely sure why. These days he used her exhaustion as an excuse. By the end of the day she was too spent to do much besides go home.

"You are still partners, I hope."

"Yeah, of course we are. We're the best. They're not going to split us up." He trusted that argument to hold up even when the powers-that-be at the FBI found out about their involvement, and pending parenthood.

"Good, good." Hank nodded. "You need her."

Booth shifted, clearing his throat a little. It was a comment that made him squirm a little. Now that he was with her, he knew that it was desperately true, but Hank shouldn't know that.

"We're both pretty independent people. Needing someone is kind of a foreign concept." Booth hedged.

"You're still just friends, then?" The old man shook his head pityingly. "Two years later, Shrimp! You should get some kind of award- the award they give to stupid people. What's the matter with you?"

This remark was surprising, but not uncommon for the outspoken old man. Still, Booth reacted. "What? Nothing! Nothing's wrong with me. I'm a normal guy, okay? And she- well, she's not really a normal girl."

"Neither of you are normal," Hank muttered.

Booth briefly debated how much to say, but he didn't wonder for long. He wanted his grandfather to know that he _was_ normal, and that they finally had taken the plunge. Besides, there wasn't much reason to keep things from him. "Actually, Pops, we're not _just_ friends anymore. We're a little more than that."

Now it was Hank's turn to be surprised, but in a very good way. He grinned. "You mean you're actually dating her? Or did you just make a little ruckus for your neighbors?"

"Pops!" Booth laughed.

"What? I was an MP. Isn't much dignity about the subject of sex in the military. You should know that."

"Yeah, okay, Pops. It's not like that. Not just ruckus. We're…together." Dating wasn't really what he'd call it. It wasn't really what they did. They'd been 'dating' for six years. Every drink or dinner after a case was basically a date. He wasn't taking her romantic, or cutesy places like some high school kid. And they didn't even really go out for drinks or coffee anymore, because she couldn't have them. But they were in a relationship, however it was defined.

"Good for you," Hank said approvingly. "It's about time! I already told you, she's a keeper. And talk about good looks."

"Yeah, Bones is beautiful," Booth agreed, thinking of how she looked drifting off to sleep this morning in her office. Her body had curled protectively around her midsection, her powers of conversation dissolving into half-whispered mumbles as exhaustion carried her away.

Hank shook his head. "She reminds me of your Gram. You need to do whatever you have to to hang on to her."

"Well…there's something else, Pops," Booth said with a small grin. All thoughts of the bad news at the doctor's would be chased away after this conversation.

They had agreed not to tell anyone yet, but Pops wasn't 'anyone.' And Booth knew she wouldn't mind. Besides, he'd already told him the one piece of important info – why not go whole hog? He'd probably be pretty happy about it. And who knew when the next opportunity to tell him would come up again? Right? So it was a perfect opportunity.

"So?" Hank pressed when Booth fell silent again. "Are you going to tell me, or do I have to guess?"

Booth glanced over at his grandfather, so old and yet so young at heart. Would he stick around long enough for their child to grow up knowing him? He hoped so. Parker loved Pops, and he wanted this next one to love him too.

"She's gonna have a baby." He grinned again, unable to keep his bursting pride hidden.

Hank was startled by this news. He looked at Booth in disbelief. "You got her pregnant?"

Booth was startled too, because his grandfather's tone was less than pleased. "Well, I didn't mean to…"

"Shrimp, didn't I teach you about the glove before love?" Hank shook his head. "Didn't you learn anything from the first time this happened?"

Booth was disappointed in the reaction. He had expected happiness and congratulations, not censure and chastisement. "But I thought you liked her!"

"I do, Sport, and that's why I don't want to see this become another Rebecca situation."

"It won't. We're still together. We're going to raise our baby together. This is a good thing, Pops. I'm happy about it."

Hank's frown didn't disappear. "You're gonna marry this one, right?"

Booth looked back at the road quickly, fighting back the feeling of anger that flared. His grandfather didn't deserve anger right now, and he wasn't trying to provoke it. He didn't know how his words sliced through the most vulnerable part of Booth's heart. "No," he said firmly.

"Why not?" Hank demanded.

"She doesn't want to marry me, Pops. I'm not going to ask. She doesn't believe in marriage."

"I don't think so," protested the old man. "That's one smart girl you got there, and she knows what's best for her kid, guarantee it. She'll marry you."

"No, she won't." Booth wished the subject would drop. Better to go back to thinking about the grim news from the doctor after all.

"Don't you love her?"

"Of course I do, Pops! I'm crazy about her. And I'm already crazy about our kid. But I'm not going to ask her to marry me." His grip on the steering wheel tightened.

"Why? If you love her, do the right thing. What's the worst she can say? No?"

Yes. That would be the worst thing she could say – and it would be exactly what she said if he asked. He wasn't going to fool himself into making that mistake yet again. Just knowing she would say no was wounding enough, he didn't need it confirmed out loud.

"Can we just drop the marriage thing?" Booth said sullenly.

Hank sighed. "I missed something when I taught you about love and family. You put the cart before the horse again. Okay, okay. So no marriage. How does Parker feel about it?"

Booth was eager to seize the new topic, since he needed advice in the area anyway. "Well, you know, he loves Bones. But, he doesn't know she's expecting. He doesn't even know we're together. I don't know how to tell him."

"You'll figure it out. Parker's a good kid." Hank settled back in his seat, relaxing.

"What? That's it? I thought you were going to tell me how to handle this."

"Do I look like a man who knows how to tell his son that he got another woman pregnant?"

Booth sighed wearily. "She's not just another woman, Pops."

"I'm glad you know it. That's what I was trying to tell you. You don't let a woman like that get away."

"She's not going anywhere. I already said that – we're raising our kid together."

"Together, but not married. Sure, sure." Hank waved his hand, dismissing the resurfacing subject before Booth could protest. "Don't worry about Parker. You've done a good job with him. He'll be fine."

Booth fell back into silence, brooding over the topic that his grandfather could not seem to get past, wondering about what he could say to Parker to make it all okay, and vaguely wondering what Bones was up to right now.

"So you want another boy?" Hank asked after a minute.

"Yeah, well, you know, I have experience with boys. I wouldn't know what to do with a girl."

"Boys are easy. Girls are the ones you gotta watch out for," Hank agreed. "A father can love his son, but it's the daughter who he can't say no to. Many a tough guy has been wrapped around the finger of a charming little girl. If it is a girl, Shrimp, you're a goner."

Booth grinned, part of him knowing full well that it was probably true, especially if that little girl had her mother's starry eyes. They pulled in to the parking lot of Willow River Retirement Community. Booth jumped out and ran around the side to help Hank, but was waved off impatiently.

"I can do it," Hank insisted, slowly and somewhat painfully extracting himself from the large SUV.

Booth stood back and let him do it alone. "So listen, Pops, when we go to dinner with Bones… just pretend to be happy for us, okay? She's excited about the baby, and she'd appreciate it if you were too. We both would."

"I _am_ happy for you, kid," Hank insisted, stepping onto the curb and closing the door. "As long as this is what you both want."

"And you wont bring up the subject of marriage?"

"What, are you going to tell me what I can and can't talk about now?" Hank shuffled toward the door. "I'm a grown man. I can say whatever I want."

Booth groaned, following close on his heels. "You're going to get me into trouble."

"You could use a little trouble."

Booth sighed. There would be no changing his mind. He would have to warn Bones before they went to dinner with him, so that when the subject came up she wouldn't think it was his own doing, and so she could be prepared for some awkwardness.

Hank stopped and turned around. "You gonna follow me all the way to the door? Go back to work. Solve murders. Go home to your pretty girl. Go talk to your boy. Go do _something_. Give my best to the bone doctor, and call me about dinner sometime."

Booth chuckled, giving his grandfather a quick hug. "Alright, Pops. Take care. See you later."

"Bye, Shrimp."

Booth hung back as he watched Hank walk the rest of the way to the door, and disappear inside. The doctor had already called the prescription over to them, so they'd know all about Hank's new condition. He was in good hands there.

His phone buzzed, jarring him out of his concerned thoughts. It was a text from Cam, updating him on the case.

_Brennan says homicide. Time to work. Emailing you details._

Booth clicked his phone shut, smiling to himself. That meant Bones was back on her feet, and if she was back, then he was back. And if they were back, then the whole team was functional again. Cam was right. Time to get to work.

* * *

><p><em>{Next we'll see some others realize the startling truth, which may or may not include one utterly shocked psychologist. We'll see - haven't decided that far ahead just yet. Please, please, leave a review while you're waiting for the next chapter. I'd really appreciate it! :) }<em>


	8. Chapter 8

_{Ah, thank you, thank you, for all the reviews. It really helps me know what else you guys want to see, and how long I should continue these. Got the next two chapters done! This one doesn't really advance the story, but it demanded to be written anyway. So here you go.}_

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><p>"Oh man. You know what. <em>I'm<em> the tired one today," Booth groaned, shutting the apartment door behind them, tossing the keys into the bowl that Brennan usually kept them in.

She took off her jacket and hung it up on the peg by the door. "Well, you had to chase a man halfway across the city on foot. That warrants a little tiredness, I think."

"Yeah. How come they always run? Seriously. If you're going to try to sell me the story that you're innocent, why run?"

"He's a drug user. He probably had illegal substances on him," she pointed out as they moved from the entryway into the living room.

"I don't care about that. Or at least, I wouldn't have if he hadn't run." He fell back onto her couch, a huge, exhausted sigh escaping him. "Holy cow, I am beat."

She sat down next to him, pulling off her shoes and tossing them to one of the armchairs. "What do you want for dinner tonight? Moroccan?"

He laughed, taking her hand and pulling it into his lap, tracing his fingers in her palm. "Good one. I'm impressed. Your jokes are improving."

She grinned, pleased that her found her efforts somewhat successful. "Thank you."

"How are you feeling?" he asked gently, changing the tone for a moment. "Tired?"

"Yes," she admitted, "But no more than usual."

"How's the little one?" He slid a hand over her middle. "She make you puke again at all?"

She winced at the memory. "No, just the one time. Once the bones were cleaned, I had no problem. I think the one time did enough damage, though. They wouldn't stop asking me if I was alright for the rest of the day."

"They care about you, Bones, even if they don't know the real reason. And trust me, if they did, they'd care even more."

She thought about that for a moment, less than thrilled at the notion that there would come a day when they all found out, and the excess of concern than so annoyed her today would be increased twofold. If that was a sign of their affection, she didn't want it.

But someone already knew. And that 'someone' hadn't been suffocating in her enthusiasm and concern. Maybe the others would have the same kind of reaction. Hopefully.

The desire to be honest with him flared suddenly, and she admitted in a soft voice, "I told Angela."

Booth looked at her in surprise. "You did?"

"Well, I accidentally made a reference to the fetus when I was playing with Michael, and Angela heard," she explained quickly. "Angela guessed on her own – she is very good at putting information together to form an unlikely conclusion. She guessed, and I couldn't lie to her."

"No, it's good you didn't lie. Girls always get into way too much trouble when they lie to their best friends. It's fine. I'm actually not too surprised. I knew you'd spill to her sooner rather than later." Booth grinned patiently, unperturbed by her having revealed the pregnancy to someone earlier than expected. It didn't bother him. It was her decision when to tell people, not his.

"I have actually been making attempts to tell her for a long time." She gave him an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

He brushed her hair back behind her ear, a reassuring smile replacing the grin. "Hey, it's okay. It's your secret to share, not mine."

"Yes it is – it's _our_ secret. We are partners - in this instance as well."

"I just meant that, right now, she's all yours. It's your body, your kid. You get to decide. I'm just the guy who planted a seed."

She chuckled a little at the metaphor, leaning her head on his shoulder. "You had an equal part in the conception. You get an equal part in the publication."

He coughed conspicuously. "Well…if you really mean that, then actually I guess I'll say that I told Pops today."

"You did?" She was surprised, but felt herself smiling at the thought of Hank knowing their precious secret.

"Yeah, I did. Are you mad?"

"No." She grinned. "I can hardly fault you for telling Hank just after I told Angela. We're even. How did he react?"

Booth hesitated. "Ahh… Well, you know, he was happy…"

"You left a huge caveat hanging on the end of your phrase," she pointed out, arching a brow. "He was happy, but what?"

"Yeah, I left it hanging because I wasn't sure I wanted to tell you." He laughed a little, sort of. "It's not really important."

"What?" She shifted her body so she was facing him more, her eyes growing wide and curious. "What did he say?"

He didn't look at her. "He said I put the cart before the horse again."

She wrinkled her nose in that all-too-familiar expression. "I don't know what that means."

He sighed, the awkwardness of the earlier conversation resurfacing – only it was worse now, because he was having this conversation with _her_. "It means that I didn't do things the right way. Or, I guess, in the right order. He thinks I should have married you, and _then_ had a baby. You know?"

She understood immediately. It was what Angela had said earlier, and what she herself had expected Parker to anticipate. "Oh…Yes, traditionally that is the order."

"Yeah. And this is the second time that this has happened, so he thinks there's something wrong with me."

She frowned, uncomfortable with the idea that Hank looked down on them for doing things out of order. And truthfully, she didn't love the comparison between this time and the first time Booth had a child. She didn't like being equated with Rebecca. Still, she tried to be objective. Hank's perception was not unwarranted. "Accidentally getting two women pregnant does make you seem pretty irresponsible…"

"What, now you're siding with him?" He pulled away from her, genuinely wounded by the remark.

"Of course not." She regretted the hasty words. "I was just trying to find Hank's perspective, to attempt to justify what he said. I don't like it. I know you're not like that. You are a very responsible person."

"Thanks, Bones." He softened, knowing full well how badly she often felt about saying unintentionally offensive things. "He knows that too, I think. He just wants me to do the right thing. You know, the honorable thing."

"By marrying me?" Her voice was soft and small.

"Yeah."

The silence hung between them for a long time, each second more agonizing than the last. She wished she could say the things he wanted to hear, to reassure him, to tell him that she would marry him, and that everything he wanted and believed in could be realized. But she just couldn't say it. She was not physically able form the words. It would be too big a lie. She couldn't say something like that just to soothe him - she had to mean it. And right now, she could not mean it.

"You are doing the honorable thing already," she finally concluded. "You could have refused responsibility when I told you about the baby. You knew I was perfectly capable of handling it on my own. I wouldn't have faulted you for wanting to escape your part in this. But instead you chose to stand by us, to be a father to this child. That is honor, no matter how you choose to view it."

He smiled a little, but his tone was heavy and serious. "It was never a choice, Bones. For me, it was easy, because there was only one option. There's no place I'd rather be than here. It's not honor, it's selfishness."

She laughed softly, her voice soft and smoky like falling dusk. "Honor, selfishness, however you choose to say it. Either way, it seems like the right decision to me."

He pulled her legs up onto his lap, letting them drape over him while he gently took hold of her feet. "Enough about what Pops said. In the end, he's gonna be a sucker for our kid, trust me. Tell me about Angela. What did she say?"

Brennan grinned, shaking her head at the memory. "She was very excited. She told me that motherhood is very rewarding, despite her lack of sleep. She also said if it's a girl, she hopes that Michael and our baby will grow up to be 'close'. I think she meant romantically involved."

Booth frowned, suppressing a growl. "I don't like that."

"I didn't either," she agreed. "It's meaningless to speculate that far ahead. Besides, I don't want to think about the day when our child leaves us, when she's not even here yet."

Booth didn't like it for other reasons, but he didn't mention those right now. He absently massaged the bottom of her feet, his mind largely occupied with thoughts about their future, and how she had so obviously referred to them still being a couple when their kid was old enough to leave the house.

Whose house?

The subject of moving in together was too similar to the marriage one, and he absolutely refused to bring it up right now. It wasn't important. Right now they pretty much shared each other's apartments anyway, half the time going back to hers, half the time back to his. Sometimes, they even still slept separately. It was a loose arrangement. Would it always be so loose? Would both his kids grow up in the homes of their mothers, only coming to his place when it was convenient?

"What are you thinking about?" she asked very quietly, drawing him out of his ruminations.

His gaze caught hers briefly before bouncing away again. Lie, he needed a lie. He couldn't talk to her about that right now. "Nothing. Just wondering what the consequences will be at work when it comes out that we made a baby."

"Wont Sweets' opinion on our ability to work together carry some weight with the FBI?"

"Yeah." It was sort of his worry.

Brennan shook her head uncomprehendingly. "Then we have nothing to worry about. Sweets is one of us, Booth. He wont break up the team."

"If he thinks we can't work together, he will."

"That would be the rational decision," she explained, "And Sweets does not often adhere to what is rational. He's in the field of psychology, in case you forgot."

Booth grinned. "Thanks for the reminder. But saying Sweets wont do something just because it's rational? That's a little harsh, don't you think, Bones?"

"No." Why would that be harsh? It was true. Although she had a certain soft spot for Sweets, and although she very much considered him part of the team, she still had a measure of intolerance for his field of study.

"He's a good kid, Sweets, but I'd still prefer he didn't find out until we have no choice but to tell him."

Brennan shrugged. She had no problem agreeing to that, since she was still kind of hoping to keep it a secret from the rest of the team as well. "Sweets has always been the one pushing us to confess our feelings and become a couple. I don't see why he should suddenly have a problem with it now. But we'll wait to tell him."

Booth laughed at the image that popped into his mind. "That kid's gonna have a conniption when he finds out we've been keeping it from him for so long."

She laughed too, like bells against his distant thunder. "He's going to panic and run into walls."

Suddenly they heard a hollow grumbling gurgling sound interrupting their conversation, and she wrapped her arms quickly around her empty stomach as if to stifle the sound.

He was dismayed. "Was that you're stomach?"

"No," she tried to lie.

He wasn't fooled. "You're hungry? Why didn't you say something earlier? What do you want to eat? I can make something."

He jumped up, but she grabbed his arm and pulled up back down onto the couch. "No," she told him firmly. "You're exhausted. I can make it."

"I don't think so." He shook his head emphatically. "You're tired too."

This time she was the one to jump up. "No more than usual. I'm fine."

He scrambled back to his feet, trying to beat her to the kitchen. She got there before he did, so he snatched her around the waist and pulled her back. "I'll do it. You go rest."

She snorted, slipping out of his grasp like water. "I'm going to do it. What do you want?"

"What do _you_ want?" he challenged, fighting his way over to the fridge.

"Nothing, I don't want anything."

"Oh yeah, then what the heck was the sound, huh? The wind?"

"You chased a man across D.C. You deserve to rest." She grabbed his arm, trying to pull him away.

He was too strong, and merely shrugged her off. "You're making a baby, which is way harder than running for a couple dozen blocks. _You_ deserve to go rest."

"I rest all the time. I want to do it today."

"No, I want to do it." He reached out for the fridge door-handle.

"I'm making the dinner. It's final." She slid under his arm, putting herself between him and the fridge.

He flipped her around so she was facing him, shutting the fridge door and pressing her against it. His eyes were burning, his voice low. "Okay, Bones. What is happening right now?"

"I think we're at an impasse," she said with a grin, her eyes flashing wickedly.

He did not give any sign of the sudden heat flooding through his veins. She was so irresistible when she got riled up like this. "Why wont you let me make you dinner? I _want_ to."

"Because you're exhausted, I'm tired of you doing everything, and I want to do it too."

"So what's our solution?"

"It's simple. You give in."

He shook his head. "Not an option."

She laughed softly, putting her hands on his chest, trying to push him away so she wasn't trapped. "We need a compromise. Both of us make half of the meal."

"Not good enough. I don't want you to do anything tonight." He didn't budge. He might as well have been made of stone.

She made an exasperated sound, rolling her eyes. "Booth…"

"What's another option?" he insisted.

"Neither of us making something?" She suggested wearily.

He considered this briefly, his stubborn look clearing like a passing storm. He smiled, kissing her quickly on the cheek before he moved away to grab the pamphlets for the various delivery places in the area.

She shivered, since being pinned against the fridge had made her cold, but she grinned anyway and came to peer over his shoulder. "Chinese sounds good."

"Yeah? Sounds good to me too. Now can I be the one to order, or are you going to fight me on that too?"

"No, you can do it." She smirked, making her way back to the couch. The argument had gotten her adrenaline going, and now she felt excited and restless. She tried laying across the couch on her stomach, stretching out, feeling the relief of her body to be horizontal. It helped - a little.

She listened to Booth dial the number and place their usual order. He was ridiculous, and she would not have tolerated his behavior from anyone else. But for some reason, on him, the ridiculousness was all the more endearing.

And frustrating, of course.

He glanced at her while he was on the phone, giving her a gloating look. She rolled her eyes and shook her head, grinning in spite of herself.

He hung up, coming back over to the couch. She sat up to give him room, but the moment he was down she scooted up next to him, whispering seductively in his ear, "You think you've won this battle, but this isn't over. Just remember, I have the wits to outsmart you in most given situations."

"Oh, is that so?" He turned to her, his lips inches from hers. "Lucky for me, I have the ability to disarm your wits. I have other strategies that will guarantee a win."

His breath was hot against her and if she didn't know better, she would swear she could hear the crackle of electricity between them. Her physical hunger became small and insignificant compared to a much fiercer hunger. He had teased her earlier today, waking that need and desire in her, but because it was at work and because they had banned places where they might be caught, she'd been left unsatisfied and wanting.

But not here. Neither of them would end the night unsatisfied here.

He grinned under her lustful kiss, winding arms around her waist, toppling her over onto her back, voice dark and husky. "Hey Bones?"

"Yes, Booth?" She reached above her, loosening his tie and sliding it over his head.

"You know the delivery guy is gonna be here soon?"

"Not for a while." She picked open his buttons one by one.

He leaned in close, kissing her neck. "Hey Bones?"

"_What_?" she complained softly, wishing he'd stop talking.

"We're going in late tomorrow."

* * *

><p><em>{Quadruple space. (kudos if you get the reference.) Next chapter is done, just need to clean it up a bit and upload. Watch for it in the next hour or so.} <em>


	9. Chapter 9

"Wait a minute, what is this?" Daisy asked, frowning at the menubrium. She swung the medio-cam over it so she could get a closer look on the monitor. "There's some kind of bone-brusing here. How did we miss that yesterday? And _what_ is it from?"

"Hey, don't ask me," Hodgins mumbled, scraping some substance onto a petri dish with great care. "You'll have to ask Doctor Brennan when she gets here."

Daisy glanced at him. "She's starting to trust me quite a bit, you know. She basically let me do everything yesterday."

"Yeah, don't get too excited. She wasn't feeling well, and you were convenient."

She looked back at the bone, her face adopting a sort of pout again. "But why can't I make sense of this? She's going to come in here and tell me what it is after barely looking at it. Then she'll decide I'm not so capable after all."

Hodgins sighed. He wasn't in the mood to deal with this girl's insecurities today. Brennan's recent testiness with her interns had been useful, but for it had also provoked unusual insecurity from some of them - like Daisy. Maybe if he was getting more sleep at night, he could deal with this better. "She's the best in the world, Daisy. Nobody expects you to be as good as her. It's okay. We wont think less of you."

Daisy sighed woefully. "Where is she anyway? Shouldn't she be here by now? She's not usually late."

"Not sure. Angela's tried to call her this morning a few times. No answer." He slid the petri dish beneath a low-power microscope, peering down into it.

Daisy seemed surprised. "Shouldn't we be worried?"

"Not really," Hodgins mumbled. "Doctor Brennan runs her own schedule."

"Is she questioning a suspect with Agent Booth?"

"It's a good possibility, but Booth isn't picking up Cam's calls either. They might be somewhere they can't talk."

The young intern sighed again, saying rather dramatically, "I wish I got to go into the field more."

"Don't we all."

She smirked, her voice becoming quite knowing and superior. "You know, Lance said she goes out with Booth so much because-,"

"Stop, Daisy." Hodgins looked up from his microscope sharply. "Just stop. Whatever you're going to say – whatever Sweets thinks – don't say it. She goes out into the field with Booth because way back when he wanted us here at the Jeffersonian to help him solve murders, she blackmailed him into letting her come along. She did that because Doctor Brennan is the kind of woman who doesn't like commissioning her people out to the FBI unless she knows what's going on with the case."

"I knew that," Daisy lied. "I told Lance she was much too rational for his theory to be true."

"Mmhmm." He returned to his microscope. "Just try to focus on your work."

She let out a long, drawn-out puff of air, reluctantly turning back to the bones. Hodgins was the only one here who was any good at conversation. The others seemed to shut her down much quicker than he did. But in the end, even he left something to be desired.

The alert sound that someone with an authorized card was coming onto the platform announced Cam's arrival before the sharp click of her heels did. Both Hodgins and Daisy glanced up, but it was Daisy who let loose another sigh of disappointment and quietly went back to work.

Cam gave her a strange, mildly annoyed look. "So, what do we know?"

"Nothing," Daisy said drearily. "There's some kind of injury here to the menubrium, but I need Doctor Brennan to take a look at it."

"I found some insect eggs here. I'm trying to identify them – would have already if…" Hodgins shot his gaze toward Daisy, who wasn't watching. "But I'll get it, just give me a minute."

Cam understood. "Ah. Alright, well, I just got the victim's tox-screen back. He had Meth in his system – lots of it."

"Enough to kill him?" Hodgins was surprised. "I thought Dr. Brennan ruled Cause of Death was the damage to his hyoid."

"And her findings still stand. It wasn't enough to kill him – just send him on a massive trip."

"Who was on a trip?"

Booth and Brennan came striding up the platform, both looking alert and energized. She was buttoning her lab coat and pulling her hair up out of the way. Booth was the one who asked the question, and was looking at Cam for a response.

"Our victim," Cam told him, surprised at their sudden appearance. "Meth – where were you this morning? I've been trying to call."

"Interviewing a suspect," Booth said dismissively, as if it were unimportant. "He's not our guy. So he had meth in this system. What else?"

"Doctor Brennan!" Daisy said with excited relief. "I found something I can't identify. Can you take a look at it? We missed it yesterday."

Brennan pulled on some gloves, coming over to look at whatever Daisy was pointing at. "Another unexplained injury, Ms. Wick?"

Daisy cringed at the reminder of her failure to explain some marks on the bones the day before, for which she'd received censure and criticism from her teacher. "Well, I-"

"Those other marks you found yesterday, Bones," Booth interrupted, reminded of the previous injuries as well. "Could those be made by needles?"

She glanced up, but avoided looking at him, considering his suggestion for a moment. "Yes, hypodermic needles would be the approximate shape and size of the object used to inflict those wounds. One would have to bury the needle _very_ deeply though to be able to gouge the femur like that."

"Like a meth needle?" Cam realized. "He was that desperate for a high, to push it so far in as to hit the bone?"

"No," Brennan shook her head, frowning. She swung the medio-cam over the femur, zooming in very close on the tiny nick there – making an almost imperceptible injury grow huge on the monitor. That close, it looked like a deep, long gouge. "He wouldn't be able to jam the needle this far in himself – or at that angle. It had to have come at him with great velocity or force."

Cam frowned. "Why wouldn't the needle just break off? They aren't that strong."

"It probably did, but when the body bloated it pushed the fragment out." Brennan seemed to think the matter was finished. She returned to examining the manubrium.

Cam glanced at Booth. "So, the suspect you tracked down yesterday isn't our guy?"

Booth shrugged. He hadn't actually questioned him – he'd had Sweets do it, and just read his report a few minutes ago. But Cam didn't need to know that. "Well, you know, he's a pathetic excuse of a guy, but I don't think he did it. He says our victim associated with some pretty shady characters, so our list of suspects just got a whole lot bigger."

He looked back at his partner, leaning over the bones of a dead man. This was her true comfort zone, and watching her, he felt a surge of affection for his weird little scientist. She looked lovely, her hair falling across her neck, her brow puckered every so slightly in concentration as she handled the bones with meticulous care. He'd spent all morning exploring her in every possible way, but watching her like this, he still got the sense he didn't know her at all.

"It's a bone-bruise, Daisy," Brennan murmured after peering at the menubrium for a second. "I've seen this injury before. It's common in the remains of the indigenous people of the Hi-Merima tribe, where they try to exercise illness out of the elderly by striking the sternum with a small stone hammer. The belief, of course, being that-"

"So someone hit this guy with a small stone hammer?" Booth cut in with a degree of amusement.

She gave him a sharp look, which quickly turned into a grin that she ducked down to hide. "That is unlikely. But this was caused by an object with minimal surface area, great force, and perhaps a fulcrum to deliver the blow at the precise angle. But I can't be certain about the fulcrum."

"Does it help us in anyway identify the killer?"

"Perhaps." She looked up at Daisy. "I want you to map the pattern of bruising and give the measurements to Angela so she can look for possible weapons."

Daisy nodded quickly, eager to get back into her mentor's good graces.

Brennan observed her discouragement, and after a moment of silent debate, said reluctantly, "Good work, Ms. Wick."

"But I couldn't identify it," Daisy protested.

"I don't expect perfection, but I expect intelligence and perceptiveness. You discovered an injury that we both missed yesterday."

"Really?" Daisy's crestfallen expression illuminated again.

"But-," Brennan said quickly, before her the grad student's exuberance could overflow, "I need you to go map these injuries quickly, so Angela can get started. The bone room will have the instruments you need. You should do it now."

Daisy lifted the sternum carefully, grinning. "Right away."

She hurried off, reassured that she was not thought less of after all. The others on the platform watched her go, glancing at Brennan with vague amusement.

She turned and saw their expressions. "What?"

Booth laughed. "It's always great when you just dismiss your squinterns like that. Queen Bones and her puny little serfs."

"No, I did not _dismiss_ Daisy. I gave her an assignment," Brennan protested. "It's her job. Besides, she'll never learn about bone bruising if I don't give her the opportunity to examine it extensively."

"Sure, whatever say, your highness," Booth said with a mock bow.

"I got it." Hodgins looked up from his microscope. "_Cimex lectularius_. These are bed bug eggs."

Cam was surprised. "Bed bugs? But if our victim was sleeping on a bed infested with bed bugs, wouldn't he have had more on him than just a couple of eggs?"

"I don't think he was," Hodgins spun his stool around so he was facing them. "I think our murderer was. I couldn't find any evidence of adult bedbugs in any of the remains. It's more probable that these eggs were transferred from the assailant when our victim was killed."

"Great," Booth said with a touch of sarcasm. "Except that bedbugs are all over the place."

Hodgins jumped up and went to one of the computers. "Yeah, but there was a recent bedbug outbreak in one specific neighborhood." A few clicks and jabs to the keyboard, and the screen filled with a map of D.C. "Anacostia."

Booth whistled through his teeth. "Lot of drugs there. The druggie kid was right, our boy was in with a really bad crowd."

"If he was attacked by someone in Anacostia, like a fellow addict or drug dealer, it would explain the bed bugs, the needle marks, and the meth in his system." Cam looked at Booth meaningfully. "Looks like you're going to have to brave the war zone."

"Great. Tracking down one specific drug dealer in that neighborhood is like trying to find a grain of rice in a blizzard." Booth shook his head, realizing things were about to get a whole lot messier with the case. "Thanks for the help - I'm going to go poke around the area and see what I can learn. Call me when you find out anything else."

He turned to leave, but stopped when he heard Brennan pulling off her gloves and trotting after him. He swung around to face her. "You're staying here, Bones."

She frowned. "What? No I'm not. I'm coming."

"No." His voice got firm.

Her face transformed into surprise and displeasure. "Yes, Booth, I am. You might need me to identify the kind of needles he would have used. They are a very specific diameter."

"It's not happening. Stay here."

"No. I'm coming." She tried to move past him.

He stepped in front of her, bodily blocking her while placing his hands on her arms and gently pushing her back. "You're not."

"Yes, I am!" She tried a beseeching look. Why didn't he want her with him?

Her expression just heightened his determination. He kept her firmly in place. "No."

"Booth, what is the problem? They don't need me here for a while. Daisy and Angela can figure out the weapon used on his sternum-,"

"Listen to me, Bones. You're _not coming_. That is way too rough a neighborhood for you to be in." His jaw grew tight with frustration and his eyes bore holes into hers.

"I've been in bad areas before."

"Hannah was _shot_ in this neighborhood. Do you remember that? You saved her life? Ring any bells?"

She shook her head, her brow furrowing. "She was investigating bad cops – that's not what we're doing. I'll be fine."

His voice began to elevate in volume and intensity, a sort of panic and rage rising up inside him as she pushed and pushed at his limits. Why couldn't she just accept it was _too dangerous_? She was just reckless! That's what she was – reckless. And it made him angry at her. "No way I'm letting you come with me, so just drop it."

She was getting angry too, because he was being so obstinate and difficult, because she didn't understand his hesitation. He had only been around to protect her for the last six years – her entire life until then she'd done a very good job of it herself. She had been in far worse situations than Anacostia, alone and imprisoned, being threatened and beaten, and she had come out of it alive. Why didn't he trust her to come with him?

"I can take care of myself, Booth. I'm not afraid of some drug dealers."

"Well maybe you should be!"

"Why?" she challenged, her breath hot and blood boiling.

"Because you can't just think about yourself anymore!" He finally burst, the outrage too large to contain. Was she really so irresponsible? "You have something to protect now. Did you even think about that? What if you got shot, huh? Or even kicked in the wrong way? You think I'm going to let you compromise both your lives? You don't get to be selfish anymore, you have to think about the baby."

The baby. The words mushroomed into the air, the fallout radiating outward like a cloud. The echo of it seemed to ring on and on and on.

And the silence that followed was deafening.

She glared at him. She was frozen in dread and rage, livid that he had just thrown their secret, their guarded, precious secret, out into the air for the world to hear.

And though he realized what he'd done, his desperation to make her stay where it was safe outweighed his guilt, and he met her glare with even venom.

They were still on the platform, and they were not alone.

Even though neither Booth nor Brennan broke their fierce gaze at one another, they could feel the shocked stares of Hodgins and Cam on them, on the exposed nakedness of their revelation.

"Baby?" Hodgins repeated very softly.

Brennan's look was so accusing that Booth finally had to escape it. He turned away from her, looking at the others demandingly. "What?"

Both Hodgins and Cam had wide-eyed, dumbfounded expressions.

Cam shook her head at Booth's question. "What do you mean what?"

He threw up his hands in frustration. "Forget it. Whatever. I'm out of here. Call me if you find anything new."

As he turned to leave again, Brennan grabbed him fiercely by the arm. He turned to face her, meeting a red-hot look of resentment that sort of made him die a little inside. She'd given him many different looks over the course of their partnership, including some pretty mind-blowing ones this morning, but she'd never given him this one.

"You will _not_ leave me here to clean up this mess alone."

Her voice rang with an authority that, like the glare, she had never, ever used on him. It was astonishing, but mostly to the others. His emotions were still too stormy to be resentful that she had taken that tone with him.

He jerked his arm out of her grasp, striding back to Cam and Hodgins, looking at them expectantly. If they had questions, they better ask them.

Hodgins' gaze trailed down to Brennan's stomach unconsciously. His blue eyes were wide, and the words he spoke were disconnected from his suddenly scattered thoughts. "So…it wasn't food poisoning?"

"Nope," Booth said curtly. "I lied. I would apologize, but yeah, no, I don't feel like it."

"Baby…" Cam was disbelieving. "She's pregnant?"

Booth snapped his gaze from Hodgins to Cam. "Yep."

"For how long?"

Brennan looked down at the ground, feeling exposed and vulnerable and the subject of too much attention, which just made fueled her anger. She wished they'd stop looking at her. "Ten weeks."

"Ten weeks?" Cam choked.

Hodgins looked from Booth to Brennan, confused by their hostile regard for each other. "So…you're back to the plan of having a baby?"

There was no reply. What could either of them say? What plan? It wasn't a decision. It definitely wasn't a plan. It just was.

Cam and Hodgins glanced at one another, barely sure what to think or what to even ask. Neither one was being very forthcoming, despite Brennan's demand for an explanation.

"Is it…?" Cam ventured hesitantly. "Do you know who the father is?"

Brennan wrinkled her nose, giving her colleague an offended look. "You think I have so many partners as to not know who sired my child?"

"No, no," Cam said hastily. "I just thought… wait…! You mean you _didn't_ use a sperm bank?"

Booth risked a quick glance over at his partner, knowing now that the second part of their two-fold secret was going to come out. It couldn't be stopped. He had opened Pandora's box. She was probably even more furious now, even though she did well not to show it. He suspected he would not be allowed to stay at her place tonight.

"No," Brennan replied. "The fetus was conceived the traditional way."

"Fetus…" Hodgins sort of laughed, but it was a confused, hesitant, shocked sort of laugh. "You have a fetus. Your own fetus. Right now."

"Oh." Cam's voice grew quiet. She didn't know what to say. This news was…impossible. "Wow."

"Okay, okay," Booth said impatiently. "So she's going to have a baby. Except nobody's supposed to know, so you have to keep it to yourselves, got it? And in the meantime, it means she is not allowed out of this lab if her intentions are to go anywhere dangerous. You all have to back me up on this one, because obviously she's going to put up a fight."

"Oh, yeah, completely agreed," Hodgins said hurriedly. "No risks for you anymore, Dr. B."

"Wait, wait," Cam cried. "Is that all we get to know? I mean… who is the father?"

This time, when Booth and Brennan looked at one another, the hostility and anger had been temporarily set aside. They had been so successful at hiding their relationship for so long. Did they want to lie and keep it a secret, or did they want to reveal the truth and face the world knowing?

But they didn't have to say anything, because Hodgins and Cam were both intelligent people, they both knew about relationships, and they both knew exactly what that look meant.

Cam gasped quietly, and Hodgins breathed a soft expletive in his amazement.

Booth returned his attention to them, seeing on their faces that they both knew. His voice grew quiet, resigned. "Yeah. Baby's mine."

"You guys actually _did it_?" Hodgins could scarcely believe what was transpiring right now. Not only was Brennan pregnant, but about ten weeks ago she and Booth had finally, _finally_ done what everyone had been betting on for six years? "I mean, _really_ did it?"

What?

Brennan turned to Booth, muttering with annoyance, "I thought I already explained that our child was conceived _traditionally_. That means actual intercourse, doesn't it?"

"Okay, look, just close your open trap, there Hodgins," Booth said quickly. "Listen, this wasn't a planned thing. It just sort of happened. Again, we'd appreciate if you both kept your mouths shut and not tell anyone."

"Except Angela," Brennan added. "She already knows all of it."

"Angela knows, and she didn't tell me?" Hodgins was almost just as shocked about this as the last two revelations.

"I told her not to." Brennan looked at Cam, who was at a loss for words. "Now that you know, it's appropriate to warn you that I will be requiring six weeks off when the baby comes."

"Yeah…" Cam said absently. She came sliding back to reality suddenly. "Wait, what?"

"Maternity leave? Angela was allowed six weeks time, and I expect the same courtesy, although - I _am_ a more vital part of the team. I will try to adequately prepare the interns to perform in my absence, and I still may be available for consultation. I'm not sure yet, I don't know what to anticipate."

"Bones, maybe now's not the best time," Booth murmured. "They're still kind of in shock."

"I don't see why," she told him in a low voice. "I thought they were both capable of quicker processing than this."

"Well, they basically just got told that pigs can fly, give them a minute to adjust."

She wrinkled her nose, shaking her head disparagingly. "No, Booth, pigs can't fly."

"Exactly." He gave her a significant look, which she did not understand.

"Wait a minute," Hodgins said in the voice of startling realization. "Wait a minute. Ten weeks ago! Ten weeks ago… Michael's seven weeks, and three weeks before that…"

Cam looked at him. "What? What was three weeks before that?"

"Vincent." Hodgin's huge blue eyes swung to Booth and Brennan, growing wider and wider. "Vincent died ten weeks ago."

Cam still didn't quite understand at first, but then slowly she began to grasp the connection. They all thought Brennan was a master at grief-management – but really she'd just found a greater comforter than compartmentalization. Ten weeks later…!

The stunned pause in conversation was interrupted when Daisy returned, with Angela. Angela had Michael strapped to her in a sling. He was bundled neatly, tucked against her like a little bean. She and Daisy were talking excitedly about something, but stopped when they arrived suddenly on the platform and saw everyone staring at everyone else in meaningful silence.

Daisy looked around at them. "What's going on? Everyone looks crazy. Something bad with the case?"

"We have discovered that the killer likely lives in Anacostia," Brennan told her without missing a beat. She glanced at her partner. "Booth was just on his way out to go search for him."

"Anacostia," Angela said with a cringe. "Rough place."

"Yeah." Booth met Brennan's glance, saw that she wasn't going to protest this time.

Angela saw the look pass between them. For a moment, she grew very nervous for her friend. "Brennan's not going with you, right?"

"No, I'm not." Brennan's voice was quiet.

Hodgins shook his head, quickly turning back to his microscope before his expression gave something away. Cam too hurriedly bent over the remains, as if pretending to examine something.

"Did I miss something big? I feel like I missed something big." Daisy was not placated by the answer she'd already been given.

Angela had her suspicions as well, which was why it was her who quickly changed the subject. "Daisy and I were speculating about what could have caused the bone bruising, and we were thinking-"

"You were _speculating_?" Brennan interrupted with surprise, her disdain drenching every inflection.

"Well, Angela was speculating while _I_ was mapping the pattern of bruising. Mostly just idle conversation. But there was no speculation on my part. I'm pure reason, all the way." Daisy explained quickly before she incurred more scorn from her mentor.

"And you have stopped mapping the bruise to come and tell me your theory-based conclusion?"

Daisy looked at the artist quickly, eager to displace the blame. "It was Angela's idea."

"Geeze, Bones, go easy on the kid," Booth muttered.

"There is no place on my staff for someone who is willing to abandon the pursuit of physical proof in favor of mere conjecture," Brennan told him – giving a look that plainly said he was not quite forgiven for his outburst.

Booth turned to Angela. "What did you come up with?"

"Thank you for asking," she said warmly. "We – or I guess _I_ – thought that maybe the bruising was caused by a hand being slammed into his chest. Like, a really hard punch, or something."

"The force needed to cause that much damage would have certainly fractured many of the phalanges and damaged much more of the sternum," Brennan shook her head. "It's is unlikely that estimation is correct, which is why I discourage conjecture in the first place. What is the evidence are you basing this on?"

"Okay, Sweetie, I know you can't help it right now, so I'm going to forgive you for being snippy. I started to guess a punch because the pattern Daisy is mapping is starting to have a familiar shape. It's not done yet, so obviously it's still just a theory. But we thought if Booth is going out looking for the guy, it might be good to know that the guy might have a broken hand."

Brennan softened, realizing she was letting her irritation get the best of her, and that she had become unfairly aggrivated at her friend. "If it was caused by a fist, then yes, the assailant would _definitely_ have a broken hand. In which case your theory could be useful..." But because she couldn't leave it at that, she added hastily, "But it is still improbable, so please consult the data before any further assumptions."

Booth grinned, reaching out to rub Michael's head. "I can work on a theory. Thank you. It might help me narrow down which of the dealers is our guy."

Hodgins cleared his throat, glancing up from his work. "Uh, if you don't find one with a broken hand, you might want to look for someone who favors brass knuckles. Could explain the smaller surface area, more condensed damage - and would still have the pattern of a fist. I could swab for traces of any metallic substances left behind on the bone."

"Broken knuckles or brass knuckles, got it." This was why Booth appreciated this squad of egg-heads. They could make a grain of rice a little bigger and a little more noticeable.

"Daisy, maybe you ought to go back to mapping the injury so we can get Booth a little more info," Cam suggested suddenly, also looking up from her pretended work.

If Daisy was surprised at being sent off twice in less than an hour, she did not show it. She simply accepted the wisdom of the suggestion and went trotting off, promising to come back as soon as she was done.

On the one hand, Brennan was glad to see her go. On the other, Daisy's presence meant the others weren't going to talk about their recent discovery, since she was the only one who didn't know. Cam must have sent her away in order to be able to talk more freely.

Angela turned to them as soon as Daisy was out of earshot. "So. Want to tell me what's going on? Did somebody spill a very big secret again?"

"'Very big' is an understatement," Hodgins exclaimed, shaking his head.

"It wasn't my fault this time," Brennan defended quickly. "It was Booth's."

"What? You provoked me. This isn't my fault."

Angela grinned hugely. "Yeah. See how hard it is to keep this kind of thing from people? And everyone thought _I_ caved early."

"You told them sooner than we did," Brennan pointed out.

"Michael's going to have a friend," Hodgins realized, his shell-shocked look becoming one of great amusement.

Booth saw it, frowning. "Yeah well, we'll see. I don't really want my kid hanging out with squints too much."

"Hey," Angela protested, wrapping her arms around her baby as if to shield him from the implied insult. "You're the one who fell in love with a squint, mister. Your baby might turn out exactly like her. I wouldn't be tossing judgments around like that, especially when they involve my husband, my son, and _your_ lady there."

"My lab is going to turn into a nursery," Cam said with a cringe.

"We'll most likely hire a nanny," Brennan cut in.

Booth lifted his hands quickly, cutting them all off. "Enough. Okay, I know this was big news for you people, but let's focus, okay? I've got to go hunt down a drug dealer so we can catch a killer. Can we put all this aside for a while to make that happen?"

Angela smirked, glancing at Hodgins who grinned and shook his head.

Cam nodded quickly. "You're right, Booth. We need to get back on target here."

"Okay. Good. Are we good?" he turned to Brennan. "Are you okay if I go now?"

She glanced hesitantly at the still-interested faces behind her. "Yes. But please be careful. Try to avoid being injured."

He gently took hold of her chin with his thumb and his forefinger, his expression becoming tender and adoring, like had been earlier that morning. "I'll be careful. Don't worry."

"I don't think I'll be able to prevent that." She wanted to kiss him, but she was far too reserved to do any such thing when everybody was watching.

So she nodded, and he turned to go. She watched him briefly, surprised at how quickly her anger toward him had been abolished in favor of great concern and anxiety. She frowned, turning back to her team. Their eyes were upon her still and her cheeks burned with embarrassment.

"Don't we have some work to do?"

They grinned and each turned again to their own task, except Angela and Brennan who didn't actually have tasks.

"Want some lunch, Sweetie? I have food in my office." Angela took her friend's hand affectionately, empathetic to the vulnerable feelings of the anthropologist. "Michael rolled over last night. Come on, we'll see if he can do it again."

Brennan agreed, eager to escape the stage-like feeling of the platform. She needed to find a way to distract herself anyway. Not being allowed to go with him, she would have to keep herself busy, or else fall pray to irrational fretting and wondering if Booth would indeed be alright.

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><p><em>{So, fake-out, no Sweets this time. But don't worry, he is coming. He may very well be the last to know. We'll see where the story goes. xD Anyway, leave a review and check back for the next chapter very soon!}<em>


	10. Chapter 10

_{Alright folks. I wasn't going to do Max, but you asked for it, so here it is! And actually once I got started, I realized how could I NOT do Max, you know? Of course he's going to have a reaction to the news - he's Max! Anyway, thanks for your brilliant reviews, and hopefully I will get the last chapter done today, because I'm taking off on a very long summer vacation tomorrow and I probably wont do it while I'm gone. So I'll get 'er done today.}_

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><p>She was so frustrating!<p>

He did not understand why she was dragging this up again. It seemed like she had gotten over it earlier, but apparently not.

"Come on, Bones. I thought we were past this," Booth sighed, guiding the car into her apartment's parking garage.

"When I thought you were in danger, my anger was shunted aside in favor of concern. Now that the danger has passed…" She glanced sideways at him, her expression resentful. "Not only did you push me aside, but you told everyone about the pregnancy, so I couldn't perform any of my usual tasks at work without someone staring at me like some kind of anomalous substance under a microscope."

He laughed mirthlessly. "Okay, now you're just being dramatic. It wasn't everyone, alright? it was just Cam and Hodgins."

"Lucky for you I had already '_dismissed_' Daisy," she muttered, placing heavy sarcasm on the word he'd used earlier. "Or else she would have heard it too, and most certainly would have told Sweets. Did you even consider that?"

He pulled into a parking spot and shut off the engine, unbuckling so he could turn to face her completely. He tried to keep his voice calm and reasonable. "No, I didn't think about that. I wasn't really thinking anyone else at the time, because all I wanted to do was make you stay there where it was safe. You weren't really thinking though either, were you? Because I don't want to believe that you would knowingly, intentionally put our baby at risk just because you wanted a thrill."

It was a harsh comment, and he knew he shouldn't have said it. Her glare was angry, but he knew her well enough to see the hurt expression behind it.

Her silence was grating. It irritated him. "What?" he demanded.

"I'm not as selfish as you think I am, Booth," she said quietly, her voice hard.

He sighed heatedly. "I don't think you're selfish, Bones. I've seen you be pretty downright self_less_ sometimes. But you were really scaring me today."

"I forgot about the fetus for ten seconds!" She protested, her voice lifting in volume again. In it he could hear anger, but also desperation. "Does that make me a terrible mother? For a minute I felt normal, and I forgot that I have to be more careful now. You could have reminded me without shouting it for the whole lab to hear!"

"It doesn't make you a bad mother-," he started to explain, but she opened the door sharply and got out of the car. He pulled the keys from the ignition and got out of his side quickly, scrambling after her. The car honked to signal it was locked after he pushed the button on the keyless remote.

He caught up to her and tried to walk his usual distance – which was quite close to her – but she veered form him like a similarly charged magnet.

It was annoying. "I didn't mean to tell them like that, okay? But you just wouldn't stop. You kept pushing and pushing."

"Because I didn't understand why you were being so difficult. There was no explanation, just refusal after refusal. I thought you didn't want me with you."

They got into the elevator. She punched the button to her floor and then leaned on the opposite wall he stood against. The distance between them might as well have been a canyon.

"How can you think that, Bones, after everything we've been through? When you know how I feel about you – how can you say it, let alone think it?"

She didn't look at him, but remained stiff and aloof. "You have taken it upon yourself to take care of me – quite against my will, I might add. I have never asked for it and certainly don't need it. I thought that perhaps _you_ thought that if I came along, you would have to worry more about keeping me safe than focusing on your job. I would have resented that reasoning."

"Well obviously that wasn't why I didn't want you to come." He secretly seethed. Why did she have such a problem with him trying to be the good guy?

"Obviously not." Her words were clipped, effectively putting an end to the conversation.

The stony silence between them lasted until the elevator dinged and the doors opened on her floor. He followed her out into the hallway, wondering why she was even letting him come over at all, if she was so angry.

He was angry too, but the anger was just in response to her accusations. Beneath it he still was hoping to change her mood, to get her to be sweet with him again. She'd been fine just an hour before, when he returned from Anacostia uninjured. She was obviously relieved, and that had translated with warmth and affection and happiness. But as they left and her relief began to dissipate, conversation with her had grown increasingly difficult. She began to be angry again, and he didn't know whether to attribute it to her pregnant hormones or because she was just Bones, and being worried for most of the day had just stalled her residual anger from earlier.

She was getting to be surprisingly unpredictable in her moods these days. He used to be so good at judging what sort of things would set her off or make her happy. He was surprised most of the time now.

She opened her door and disappeared inside. Since she didn't send him away, he followed, closing the door behind them.

He set his keys in the bowl again and followed her into the living room. He didn't want to end the conversation like this, and even though it was going to make her furious, he intended to bring it back up.

She had her back to him and was setting her purse down on the coffee table when they heard the toilet flush from the bathroom.

They both froze.

Somebody was here.

Booth's sniper instincts kicked into gear, and he slowly moved in front of his partner, his hand straying to his gun. Behind him, he heard Brennan grab something heavy off the table – probably the bronze Egyptian figurine she kept there. He leveled his gun on the door of the bathroom, his finger resting on the barrel instead of the trigger.

The door opened, and Max stepped out, wiping his freshly washed hands on his pants. When he saw them – with Booth's gun pointed at him – his hands shot into the air and he laughed.

"Dad!" Brennan cried in dismay. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I just came by to share a drink with my favorite daughter," explained her father with a grin. "See? I left them on the counter."

Booth's adrenaline slowed and he holstered his gun again, sighing. "Max, how did you get in here?"

"You have your methods, Booth, and so do I." The ex-con came over to them, and Booth moved aside so Max could give Brennan a quick kiss on the cheek.

"You broke in to my apartment?" she asked with displeasure.

"Oh, let's not say it that way, Tempe," he chided. He turned to Booth and offered a hand. "Thanks for not shooting first."

Booth shook it warily. "Yeah, well, I could have. You can't just go sneaking in to people's houses."

"Now why would I do that? Other people's houses? That's a felony. I just wanted to come by and see my daughter, but she wasn't home, so I helped myself. I didn't think it was a big deal." He went to the kitchen and grabbed the six pack off the counter.

Brennan sat down on the couch, her gaze tracking her father's movements. Booth knew she was trying to think of an excuse that would allow her to refuse the drink. She was fastidious about not ingesting anything that might be bad for the baby – proof that his accusation was completely unfair. She was careful and conscious of the little life growing within her, she wouldn't intentionally endanger it. He shouldn't have even suggested it.

Booth took the drink Max offered him, lifting it in brief thanks. He sat down on one of the armchairs across from the couch. She still radiated coldness

Booth took his own drink, lifting it in brief thanks before taking a sip. He sat down too, on one of the chairs across from Brennan. He still sensed coldness radiating from her and knew that just because her father had arrived didn't mean she'd forgotten their argument.

"So why are you really here, Dad?" Brennan asked, flicking her gaze up to rest suspiciously on her father. "I can't imagine having a drink was your only motive."

"It was!" Max insisted. He sat in the other armchair. "I haven't heard from you in a while, Sweetheart, and I just wanted to catch up. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing," Booth jumped in, giving his partner a significant glance.

She ignored him pointedly. "I wish you'd called."

"Why? Don't you want to see me?"

"No, I mean I wish you'd called ahead, instead of just showing up."

Max grinned, looking around the well-organized apartment. "Don't worry, honey, your place never needs tidying up. But what's new with you two? Working on anything exciting?"

Booth set down his drink, glancing again at his partner. "We always have a case, you know that. This one's a drug one, so it's complicated."

"Drugs," Max sighed, shaking his head. "I've never understood them."

"Tell me about it. I had to go to Anacostia to hunt down a drug dealer."

"Did you find him?"

Booth sighed. "No, you know, everyone said I looked 'cop-ish' and wouldn't talk to me."

Max didn't seem the least bit surprised. "You do look like law-enforcement, even in your civilian clothes."

Booth didn't know whether to take it as a compliment or a veiled insult. Sometimes it was hard to tell with Max. "Yeah, well, tomorrow another agent and I are going undercover to see if we can't learn something else."

"Booth is quite convincing when he is undercover," Brennan piped up, finally glancing at him without hostility. "He's very good."

"I'll buy it," Max said with a brief chuckle. He glanced at his daughter, noticing her drink was still unopened on the coffee table. "Drink up, Honey. It's getting warm."

"It's best if I don't drink tonight," she said evasively, glancing at Booth for help.

Booth jumped in quickly. "Yeah, you know the medicines you aren't supposed to mix with alcohol?"

Max shrugged the explanation off, having no reason to be suspicious in the first place. He leaned back, taking a generous gulp of his own drink. "So what's the occasion tonight?"

"Occasion?" Brennan's brow ticked up.

"For Booth to come over. You two doing some late-night casework, or are you spending time together socially now?"

Brennan frowned. "We've always done that. We're friends, Dad."

"Yeah, friends. I know." Max's voice was wistful and his face became a mask of melodramatic regret. "You have enough friends, Tempe."

Booth chuckled, inclining his head in silent acknowledgement. He understood what Max was trying to imply, it was what so many often tried to hint at around them, but he did not have any response. He glanced at his partner and saw her gaze fall to her lap, her lips twitching down at the corner.

"Yes, I do." She pretended not to know what he was talking about.

Max, seeing his attempt had fallen flat, turned his attention to Booth once more. "So, Booth. No hot dates tonight?"

"Nah," Booth shrugged, grinning slightly. "You know, I had one, but we argued earlier today and… well, I don't think she's really over it."

The older man's expression became one of surprise. "What did you do?"

"Nothing!" Booth insisted quickly, a knee-jerk reaction. "I… well, okay, I _may_ have been a bit, you know, stubborn or something."

Brennan glanced up, her gaze meeting his. "You can be very difficult sometimes. Perhaps she simply didn't understand the motives for your behavior."

"If she had, you think that would have changed her reaction?"

Her clear eyes flickered with some emotion he could not read, and she looked down again while another small frown tugged at her mouth. "Yes."

Booth watched her with a kind of intensity, wishing she would look up at him to know whether he was forgiven or not, wishing Max would disappear so they could talk freely and try to get back on better ground. "I'll have to try that next time," he told her quietly.

"Sounds like there won't be a next time." Max was watching both of them very closely, sensing something more in this exchange than just what their words said.

Booth looked over at his partner's father, his thoughts coming sharply into focus. He quickly fabricated a grin and easy shrug. "It's alright. I think she was a little jealous anyway."

"Jealous?" Brennan wrinkled her nose.

"Yeah, of my partner." This time, his grin was genuine. "You're tough to compete with, Bones. Girls are threatened by you."

"As they should be." Max lifting his drink in a toast-like motion. "You got the world's most beautiful and intelligent woman as your partner."

"There's no way to quantify that statement," Brennan protested, but half-smiling despite herself as she shook her head.

It was encouraging to see her smile. It illuminated her features like sunlight, and brought the bloom back to her cheek. Booth was pleased with himself and Max for finding it hidden beneath the layers of frost.

"You really shouldn't be looking other places for a date, Booth. You have one built-in right here." Max grew bolder in his attempts, this time pointing in his daughter's direction boldly.

"Date? Us?" He glanced at Brennan as if considering it for the first time. "Come on, Max. I thought you were smarter than that."

The ex-criminal was surprised at the response. "What? You don't think you two would be good on a date?"

"Objectively speaking, we have already been on dates," Brennan adopted that tone she liked to use when she wanted to pretend to be completely rational. "After cases, sometimes, we like to go out for dinner or drinks. Usually it's only the two of us. Doesn't that constitute a social contract? Like a date?"

Booth and Max glanced at each other, both reacting to the unexpected answer. Booth was quicker to recover though.

"No, doesn't count."

"Why? Because we are partners?"

Booth shook his head. "No, because sometimes I let you pay for me – and I'd never let a woman pay for me on a date."

Max laughed. "Atta boy, Booth. Good man."

Brennan rolled her eyes. "Sometimes I let you pay for me."

"And sometimes we go dutch."

"And sometimes he comes over to your place afterward," Max jumped in, his eyes flashing between them deviously. "And an old father begins to wonder what is going on."

They both stopped for a moment, both looking at him. Brennan's gaze bounced to Booth, but Booth did not meet it. It was too suspicious. So he merely grinned and forged ahead. "And _sometimes_ that same old man almost gets himself shot when he sneaks out of bathrooms."

"Oh, we're back to that." Max sighed, taking another swig of his drink.

"No, actually I'm glad I brought Bones home tonight, because I've been wanting to ask you for a while: When's the next best time to have you meet up with Parker to show him some more scienc-y stuff? He's been asking about making up experiments every time he comes over. Rebecca lets him watch that Science Dude show waaaay too much, if you ask me."

"Oh, Bunsen Jude! That's a great program. I used to show it to my high school students all the time, even though it's meant for kids. They always got a kick out of it." Max grinned, obviously pleased with the turn of conversation. "Sure, I have some things I can show the kid. I'll show him how to make fake snot. He'll love it."

Booth suddenly felt a tad less enthusiastic. It reflected in his slightly grossed-out expression. "Fake snot…"

"Parker seems to think bodily noises and fluids are quite humorous," Brennan pointed out with a slight, affection smile. "My dad's right, he will probably love it."

Booth chuckled appreciatively. "Yeah, he's a boy, Bones. Boys tend to think that stuff is funny."

"Children in general seem to think it's funny," Max agreed. "Girls have it in them too to laugh at a well-timed fart."

Booth laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You can teach Parker how to make snot. Just don't let him take any home – alright? The last thing I need is Rebecca calling me to tell me he took it to school or something."

He again looked at his partner, seeing reflected in her face a kind of slow happiness. She liked this. She liked it when he and her father got along. The interesting thing about Max and Booth's relationship was how amiable it remained, despite Booth having arrested Max a long time ago. Even though Max was an ex-con and Booth was law-enforcement, they had a healthy respect for each other.

Perhaps Max sensed a shift in the mood of the room, for he suddenly put down his drink, stretched his back briefly, and stood up. "Well, I guess I better split before I become unable to drive. An old drunk man is pretty pathetic."

Brennan stood up too. "You don't have to go yet, Dad."

"Oh, thank you, Sweetheart, but I need to." His glance swung between her and Booth again, this time with a kind of knowing.

Booth stood too, and he and Brennan followed him over to the door. He glanced at her, and she glanced at him. He gave her a nudge with his elbow, looking pointedly at her stomach while inclining his head toward Max.

She scowled for half a second, but then her expression cleared and she seemed to be considering his encouragement.

"Well, Tempe. Have a good night," Max turned around to give her a hug.

She backed up quickly, slipping out of his grasp. "Dad, I need to tell you something important."

Max's face registered surprise. He looked at Booth with a sudden grin. "Oh, this sounds like it's going to be good."

"It is," Booth chuckled. "Trust me."

"I wasn't going to tell you, but…" She shook her head, her words trailing off into confused silence.

Booth put a hand on the small of her back in support.

"What is it, honey?" Max encouraged when it looked like she was going to stop there.

She squared her shoulders, bracing herself for whatever reaction was going to come. "You're going to be a grandfather."

"I'm already a grandfather," Max pointed out immediately.

"No – I biological grandfather. Amy's girls aren't yours."

"Oh. Why? Are Russ and Amy expecting?"

She gave him a frustrated look. "No, Dad, I am."

Max's expression went from one of amusement to instant shock. He stared at his daughter for a moment, and Booth knew his dismay. Brennan was the last person most of them ever expected when the subject of babies came up.

His gaze then swung to Booth, his eyes narrowing suspiciously. "What did you do to her?"

There was a kind of accusation in there! Booth was surprised. "Whoa, whoa, wait. How do you even know it was me, Max?"

"Well it was, wasn't it?"

There was a beat or two of silence. Brennan watched her partner anxiously, no doubt wondering whether he was going to lie or be honest. But there was no reason to lie to Max, so Booth finally relented. "Yes, it was."

Max reacted quickly. Booth saw the flash of movement in his peripheral vision, but he could not block it in time. Max's lightning-fast fist slammed into his jaw, pain exploding throughout his teeth and cheek.

"Dad!" Brennan cried, grabbing her reeling partner to steady him.

"That's for impregnating my daughter, dirtbag," Max told Booth sternly.

Brennan turned an outraged look upon her father, demanding fiercely, "What are you doing?"

"I haven't been a very good father to you over the years, Sweetheart," Max explained calmly and reasonably. "I didn't get to knock out the first guy to take your innocence, but I'll be damned if it's not my right as a father to knock out the first guy who gets your pregnant."

"That is completely illogical," she snapped, looking at Booth's face fretfully. "I'm not a teenager, it makes no sense to defend my honor now. What if he had been my husband? Would you have struck him then?"

"Of course not. I meant the guy who gets you pregnant outside of marriage," Max said with a shrug.

"It's okay, Bones," Booth muttered, shaking her off. "He's your father. It's kind of his duty."

"See, Honey? Booth understands." Max stretched out his hand. "He's a good man."

Booth shook it, though wincing from the throbbing sensation in his jaw and the headache it had provoked. "I wish you hadn't gone for the face, though."

"It'll help you with your disguise tomorrow." Max turned to his daughter, giving her a genuine smile despite her fiery look. "Congratulations, baby girl. I am happy."

She was stiff as a corpse when he tried to hug her, but after a moment she seemed to relax. "You are? That seems like an inappropriate response for one who is happy, Dad."

"It was the necessary response, Tempe," he chuckled. When he stepped back, his expression was full of childlike glee. "Of course I'm happy. You two kids finally got your heads on straight, after all these years."

She looked at Booth, and Booth looked at her.

Max took her hand. "Your mother would be so proud of you right now."

Booth watched her expression change and soften, her brow pulling together in a yearning, lost-little-girl kind of expression. "She- she would?"

"When you were little, she liked to play this game where she would speculate about yours and Russ's lives when you were older. I never saw the point, but she loved it. She would try to guess what kind of person you'd turn out to be, and how many kids you'd have. She never doubted you would have them, of course. Always more than one but less than five."

"Five?" Booth choked. It was hard enough to imagine having one child between them, let alone any others. Obviously Ruth Keenan didn't know the kind of woman her daughter would _really_ turn out to be.

Brennan didn't react to the number, but her eyes adopted a glassy look in response to the story in general. "I wish she were here to tell me what to do."

"I miss her too," Max agreed, but his expression didn't become sad. He brushed his hand on his daughter's cheek, smiling. "I'm proud enough for the both of us."

Since they were no longer trying to hide anything, and since she seemed to be needing comfort more than needing to be proud and obstinate, he wound an arm around her waist and let her lean against him.

Max saw it, and his smile grew. "I'm just glad you found someone to hold on to. He's a good guy."

"Yes, I know." she said quietly, glancing up at Booth. He saw forgiveness and affection there, and his heart swelled with love for his partner, his friend, the mother of his child. Her cheeks warmed with color and she looked away again.

"So," Max said suddenly, his voice taking on a very business-like tone. "When's the wedding? I have to warn you, as father-of-the-bride, I don't have the funds for all the big fanfare."

Booth shook his head, chuckling at the sudden enthusiasm of this once-murderer. "Not going to be a problem. Not getting married."

If he was surprised, Max didn't show it. He merely rolled his gaze skyward. "Of course not. You two like to drag your feet about things. It'll probably be another six years before you decide to tie the knot and by then your kid can push me down the aisle in a wheelchair because then I'll _really_ be old."

"I don't know why everyone seems to think that we'll be better parents if we're married," Brennan muttered, mostly to Booth.

Max jumped in before Booth could reply. "You shouldn't have such negative feelings about it, Honey. Your mother and I were married and we were always very happy. Marriages don't always end, you know."

"I don't need some antiquated ritual to proclaim my devotion or affection for Booth," she protested. "While I understand that some feel it's necessary because society says so, or perhaps they think it lends a degree of romanticism, I don't see why a legal and social contract of marriage increases one's chance for happiness. It's very foolish."

"I believe in all the stuff, Bones," Booth reminded her quietly. "That makes me a fool?"

He saw her instant regret, but it did not take away the slight sting of her words. She knew his feelings about it, and knew how deep his wounds ran – inflicted by Rebecca, Hannah, and even herself. He had always known from the moment they first slept together that this was not going to go where he wanted it to go, and he'd accepted that. They never were ones for tradition and doing things the way people expected. He could learn to live with her as just his girlfriend, or life-partner or whatever it was called after a certain amount of time.

But when she said things like that out loud, auditory proof that she did not love him _enough_ to marry him, when she knew it was important to him, it sort of cut through those old wounds like a knife, reinjuring them.

"You are governed by feeling and instinct," she said hesitantly. "And live by a more traditional standard of ideas. It's in your nature. It doesn't make you a fool. Speaking in terms of evolution, those qualities and that desire for family bonds make you an ideal mate for any female."

"Don't compare me to the monkey-man, please, Bones," he sighed.

Max laughed. "Don't worry, Booth. I'm sure she'll come around eventually. Everything happens eventually."

Impossible things had already happened. Booth was pretty sure they'd already used up their quota of miracles just getting to this point – together and expecting. There weren't any others left.

"So, names. Have you thought about names?" Max pressed.

Brennan shook her head. "No, we don't even know if the fetus is a boy or a girl yet."

"I suggest Max, if it's a boy, and Ruth, if it's a girl."

Booth and Brennan glanced at one another, their faces mirror images of each other's expressions. Booth was the one to express their mutual thought out loud. "No offense, Max, but I don't think we'll be naming our baby after two criminals."

"But they're good names!" Max insisted. "And we were reformed."

Brennan grinned suddenly, delighted with some amusing thought. "Ruth Booth is not happening, Dad."

Max flinched at the awful rhyme, and Booth laughed. She was right. That was _not_ going to happen.

"Well, whatever you decide, know that I'm going to be a better Grandpa than I was father," Max promised with a grin. "And that I'm very proud of you, Tempe. You're going to be a wonderful mother."

"Thanks, Dad," she said quietly, ducking in for a quick kiss on the cheek.

Max shook Booth's hand one more time. "Congratulations. Sorry about your jaw. Call me when Parker has free time."

"Thanks, Max. I will."

"Dad, you can tell Russ and Amy. Just don't mention anything to anyone at the Jeffersonian or the FBI. Not everyone knows yet." Brennan looked at Booth quickly – but not in reminder of what transpired this morning. He knew she was thinking of Sweets.

"I don't mention anything to the FBI anyway," Max laughed. He gave them a last goodbye and then turned and left.

Booth and Brennan turned to look at each other once the door shut behind him.

"How are you doing? Are you glad you told him?" Booth asked carefully, concerned that perhaps she might suddenly be regretting it – especially after that whole marriage bit.

But surprisingly, she smiled. "Yes, I'm glad."

She surprised him further still by moving in against him, tucking herself into his arms, resting her head on her chest.

"So… does this mean you aren't mad anymore?"

"I'm not mad." Her voice was quiet. "I'm sorry."

What had gotten into her? Apologizing? Suddenly being affectionate? He was grateful for it, but it was still surprising. "It's okay. Hormones, right?"

"Sometimes I'm not sure," she said with a soft laugh. "But I find it's difficult to stay angry with you."

"Well, I _am_ devastatingly charming," Booth grinned.

She pulled herself out of his arms, giving him a mock glare for his egotism. "Be serious for a moment, please. We need to talk about something important."

"Oh. Okay?" He braced himself.

"I think we need to tell Sweets."

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><p><em>{Yep. Sweets is next. And a very short scene with Caroline. And then it's overrrr. Because I have to stop sometime. Thanks for your reviews, peoples! You are GREAT! :D}<em>


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